Shipmates
by joegood2003
Summary: Every starship is a special society, where bonds are formed that can last a lifetime. Because in space, the only certainty you have are your shipmates.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I am doing this for fun, no money changed hands.**_

_**A/N: I am a LONG time Star Trek fan who really enjoyed the most recent movie reincarnation. Spock has always been a fascination of mine, and I'm excited by the way he was portrayed in the film. This Spock seems more at ease with his human heritage, while more conflicted about being a Vulcan then the Spock of TOS. This is my attempt to give him a back story, to explain how he came to have a certain level of comfort working with humans. It also explains his rank in the film, something he could not (in my opinion) have achieved without some experience on a starship.**_

_**I am also writing this to address a pet peeve of mine. In every version of Star Trek I have ever seen, and in virtually all the stories I have read, **__**all**__** the major characters were officers. Non commissioned officers are vital to the success of any military, or in Starfleet's case, quasi-military organization. Two noncoms will be featured in this story. It will also deal with the Spock/Uhura relationship and how it came to be, but that will not be the focus of the plot until near the end. Better writers than I have already written great stories about this, but I think it's another bright spot in the new film. **_

_**There. That's it then. No more soap box. Please feel free to offer suggestions or ask questions. I'd really like to know what people think about this so…review the story and let me know.**_

Shipmates Chapter One: Close Encounters of the Orion Kind.

_The U.S.S. Valiant was dying. The cacophony of noise that assaulted his sensitive hearing were the wails of her agony. The screech of tearing metal, the screams of the emergency sirens, and a high pitched whine that vibrated through the hull. That last sound, scarcely muffled by the main computer counsel that he was trapped under, was the greatest cause for concern. The ships main engines were out of balance. Unless the situation were remedied, the oscillations would increase in intensity until the ship literally shook itself apart. If the anti-matter containment field didn't fail first._

_For the third time since Spock had regained consciousness roughly two minutes ago, he looked for a way to escape his entrapment. His legs were pinned just above the knees, and he could feel the pain of the metal cutting into his flesh. In the dim light that bled into his prison he could see wires and tubing dangling above him, but nothing solid that he could push against._

"_Petty Officer Baeill," he shouted, "can you assist me?" _

_She had been handing him tools and monitoring the progress of his efforts while he had worked to repair a component of the ship's core computer. The last thing he could recall was a sudden, violent movement of the ship and the piercing wail of the Valiant's overloaded inertia compensators. After awakening, he had called out to her several times, but had received no response. He could only conclude that she had been rendered unconscious by the same disaster that had trapped him. Suddenly, the ship shuddered violently and the counsel he was trapped under shifted, causing him further pain. He could hear various objects dislodged by the sudden movement clattering about, and then he caught another sound, almost too faint even for his hearing, that of a soft moan. He shouted out her name again, and this time there was a response, although is was not quite what he was expecting…_

"Ensign Hahn?" A voice called out.

Though startled, Spock did not react in anyway. Which was fortunate, considering the delicate nature of the work he was performing. Even wedged into the service crawl space under the main computing bank, he could discern from the voice that the person was female and somewhat emotionally perturbed. Almost certainly Orion as well. Which meant Cadet Gaila. This should prove interesting he thought, as he gently thumbed the switch on the micro laser, sealing the last two connections into place. One long elegant hand slid to the side of his head, activating the magnification feature of his welding goggles. Slowly, he traced the cryogenic tubing by sight, to ensure that all the leaks were properly sealed.

"Freddy," the voice called out again, this time from a much shorter distance. "Damn it, you promised me that core time."

A foot nudged the heal of his boot hard enough that he almost dropped his tools. "Would you get out of there and log me in!"

Air pushed out between pursed lips. He had no one to blame but himself. Logically, he should have sealed off the computer lab the moment he'd arrived there. This would have given him plenty of time to accomplish what he needed to do without interruptions. Instead, he had elected to bring the systems online immediately, so he could access the data he was tasked with finding. That had led to his discovery of a cryogenic systems failure that had degraded computer performance.

His reaction had been instictual, the product of hard lessons learned during the four years he had served on the Valiant. Repair the minor problem before it became a major difficulty. Spock slipped his tools into the pouch that was clipped to his overalls and started to wriggle out of the tight confines of the crawl space. Apparently, Cadet Gaila was displeased with the slowness of his movement. A strong pair of hands closed around his ankles and before he could think of what to say, she was yanking him out of the confined space.

"What are you doing," he asked in a calm, clear voice. Her response was one he should have expected.

"What…who are you!?"

"Would you be so kind as to release me?" He countered. As soon as she had done so he pushed his way out, and quickly stood up. Gaila stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open. Then she started backing away toward the door.

"You have not been dismissed Cadet." His voice was calm, but authoritative. It was a tone that had taken him years to feel truly comfortable using. He saw her eyes giving him a quick once over, but there was no insignia of rank on his overalls.

"Sorry mister, you can't…damn, you were on the Valiant?"

Spock ran his thumb lightly across the faded crest of the dead ship over the right side of his chest. Then he pulled the zipper down the front of his garment, pushing it off his shoulders and over his sleeves, revealing his Commander's bars. Gaila quickly snapped to attention, eyes to the front and shoulders thrown back.

"Cadet Gaila…is it not?"

"Yes sir."

Spock nodded once, and proceeded to step out of his overalls. Picking the garment up, he carefully folded it, stowing it in his carryall. "I am Commander Spock."

"Yes sir, I know sir." Spock inclined his head, but said nothing. "You are the ranking Vulcan in Star Fleet sir," the Cadet went on after a few seconds. "Excepting of course Admiral T'Pol."

"And as I am considerably taller then the Admiral, it would be difficult to be confused about our respective identities."

She tried to fight the grin, then looked away briefly as her face relaxed into a smile. "I didn't think Vulcans understood humor sir," she whispered.

"They do not," he responded, perfectly deadpan. He flashed back for a moment to one of the first lessons he had learned from Chief Floinn. That of the importance of humor. Just one innocuous remark, and Cadet Gaila's body language told him she was considerably more relaxed then she had been only seconds ago.

"At ease Cadet," he said, "and tell me what brings you to the Computer Lab."

Her feet slid smoothly the required distance apart and she clasped her hands behind her back. "Ensign Hahn had scheduled some core time for me sir."

"Ah yes…would that be Freddy?"

"Yes sir," she replied after briefly looking away.

"Core computer time is a scare commodity Cadet. For what purpose do you need it?"

"For my A.I. programming thesis sir."

"I do not understand Cadet. Are you not required to produce software that will run on a standard starship's equipment?"

"Oh no sir," she answered, after a confused expression flashed across her face. "The core time isn't for actually running the software. I need it to auto scan my code for bugs."

"Are you having difficulties?"

"Oh yes sir. May I ask a question sir?" Spock simply nodded, and after a few seconds she spoke in a slightly nervous voice. "Why isn't Ensign Hahn here?"

Spock didn't answer right away. Instead, he flicked a switch that initiated the start up sequence for the computer systems, and was gratified to see how quickly everything came online. His repairs had improved efficiency by approximately 10.3 percent. This also gave him time to consider what answer he would give to the cadet's question. Everything he had heard to this point seemed innocent enough. And yet, it didn't feel quite right, regardless of the logic.

"Computer," he ordered, "bring up tonight's docket for main processor usage." The information appeared instantly, and he quickly scanned it. "Cadet, you are not on the schedule."

"I know sir," she answered softy as her shoulders slumped.

"How was Ensign Hahn going to obtain the time for you if you were not on the schedule?"

"It was a favor sir. He owed me…for something I did for him once." Spock merely raised an eyebrow. "I need that time sir. Do you know how hard it is for a cadet to get core time?"

"Indeed. Even I must apply several weeks in advance to receive access. When I was a cadet, the lead time required was three months."

"I don't have three months sir," she answered, her voice cracking. "The new term begins next week and I am supposed to have a working piece of software by March 1st."

Spock did some quick mental calculations and came to the conclusion that Cadet Gaila's difficulties were real. Without the benefit of the main computer, scanning the complex code of A.I. programming for errors was a time consuming and tedious process.

"Ensign Hahn has been relieved of his duties pending the completion of an investigation into certain accusations that have been made against him."

"Shit!" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry sir."

"I assure you Cadet, I have heard far worse. Your pejorative is a most appropriate response to this sorry matter."

Gaila blinked several times, wondering just what kind of trouble Freddy had gotten himself into. "What has Mr. Hahn been accused of sir?"

"I am not at liberty to say at this time. Now I have some questions for you cadet. What is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Hahn?"

"My relationship with…I don't have a relationship with Ensign Hahn sir."

"Yet, he has agreed to provide you with a commodity that you are in desperate need of, as a quid pro quo for something you have done for him in the past."

An expression of shock passed across her face quickly followed by outrage. Gaila opened her mouth, then closed it again. No matter how angry she was, she couldn't say that to a senior officer. "Is this about what Mr. Hahn is under investigation for sir?"

"Yes of course," Spock responded smoothly, "otherwise it would be none of my concern."

"I'm sorry Commander, but I still don't think it is."

If Spock had been fully human, he would have frowned. Inwardly, he doubted that Cadet Gaila was involved in this affair. Free Orion women were famous for their expressions of sexual freedom. They were equally well known for their unwillingness to have that freedom curtailed, or to engage partners that were not absolutely of their own choosing. Nevertheless, his duty was clear. Given the circumstances, the cadet must be questioned to ensure that she was not involved in any way. Just not by him.

"Perhaps you are right Cadet. Perhaps I am the wrong person to discuss this with you."

"Discuss what sir?"

"You will present yourself at the Master Chief's office at 0900 tomorrow."

"I can't do that," she answered, her voice rising, "I have classes starting at 0800."

"Your professors will be notified," Spock stated in a flat voice, choosing to ignore how she had addressed him. "Just so we are clear, this is an order Cadet. Do not be late. Master Chief Floinn will not appreciate tardiness."

"Chief Floinn? What happened to Chief Lawrence?"

"He has been relieved."

They stood facing each other, Spock coolly emotionless; Gaila, seething inside. "Would you please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"As I stated before, I am not at liberty to say."

She mumbled something that he is 89.4 percent certain was 'arrogant Vulcan,' but he choose not to notice. Orions were an emotional species, even more so in some ways then humans. Considering the situation that Cadet Gaila has suddenly found herself involved in, she could be excused her anger. Another valuable insight from Chief Floinn came to mind. If he were to hold people accountable to every violation of the rules, he would have time for nothing else. Right now he has a great deal to do, and precious little time to accomplish it.

"Am I free to go now?" She spat out angrily. He said nothing for exactly five seconds and could see in her expression that she realized she had gone too far.

"Would you care to repeat your request Cadet?"

"I'm sorry sir. Am I free to go now sir?"

"You are dismissed Cadet."

He watched as she turned her back to him, walking stiffly out the door. As soon as Gaila was out of sight, he engaged the door lock and called the Security desk, requesting that a guard be assigned to him, along with a computer tech.

Two days ago he had received a transmission from Captain Pike as to his availability to assist him in a matter of some delicacy. As Pike had been his commanding officer for the greater part of his first deep space posting, it went without saying that he would help in any way he could. After all, they had been shipmates. There was also what humans would call an ulterior motive to his prompt acceptance of Captain Pikes query. It allowed his mind to focus on something other then the catastrophe that had overtaken him and the crew of the Valiant four weeks ago.

What the Captain had told him was disturbing. Someone had accessed the academic server of Computer Sciences and altered a cadet's test scores. The changes had not been blatant, so the instructor had not noticed until the final semester grades had been issued. A careful examination of the computer logs had traced the tampering back to a terminal in the computer lab at which Ensign Hahn was the evening supervisor. When questioned, the Ensign displayed a marked degree of nervousness, and could not account for how someone could use the facility he was responsible for in such a manner without his knowledge. Believing that an official investigation was called for, the Academy Provost was informed of the issue. And that, as Chief Floinn would have so colorfully remarked, was when the excrement had intersected with the air circulation device.

The Provost and the Command Chief Petty Officer, both of whom would normally oversee such an investigation, rescued themselves and then were forced to resign due to romantic relationships they had entered into with cadets. While such liaisons were not strictly speaking against regulations, they were not what was expected from individuals who were entrusted with two of the most important leadership positions at the Academy.

When the Admiralty learned of this state of affairs, they concluded that someone from outside the Academy's normal change of command would have to be called upon to investigate. Captain Pike was asked to head up the inquiry, with the full authority of Star Fleet Command to back him up. His brief was simple, find out the full extend of the tampering that had occurred, and take steps to make sure it was stopped. Which is how Spock had found himself in Ensign Hahn's computer lab when Cadet Gaila arrived looking for her core time.

Using his admin access, he logged into the message server. Ensign Hahn's personal message account was encrypted. Taking a PADD from his carryall, he transferred a cracking program of his own design to main computer and one minute later he was reading Hahn's message queue. It was to say the least, a tedious chore. After sorting them by subject, he was left with quite a large number of messages that had something to do with male enhancement, as well numerous invitations to visit internet sights containing material of a highly sexual nature. Even his personal communications revealed an unhealthy preoccupation with gaining sexual favors from female cadets. Almost universally, his pathetic attempts were rejected. Almost. One cadet initially scorned him, but seemed more receptive when he boasted of his ability to improve her class standing.

As he scrolled through the material, the anger that had been a quiet hum at the edge of his mind grew louder, until it was a dull roar echoing inside his head. It had obviously been far too long since he had last had the opportunity to meditate. When Captain Pike had contacted him two days ago days ago to enlist his assistance, he had already been enroute to Earth via a high warp transport. While convenient, the living quarters consisted of one large room in which all eight of the passengers slept in shifts, there being only four beds. With precious little space for privacy, his attempts at meditation had been largely unsuccessful.

More so then normal Vulcans, Spock required the disciple of these mental exercises to keep his emotions tightly leashed, as his cultural heritage demanded. In truth, he had been avoiding prolonged mediation ever since he had awakened from the healing trance he had induced after the Valiant disaster. That would have to be remedied later tonight. Right now he had a job to finish. He took a deep breath to center himself, and the door to the computer lab slid open, revealing someone he had not expected to see.

Command Master Chief Muirne Floinn stood in the doorway, beaming up at him as he stood to greet her, her smile so wide Spock would have thought it to be painful. Glancing over her shoulder she ordered the two men who had been trailing after her to wait outside, and then stepped into the lab, allowing the door to slide shut behind her. She stared at him for a long moment and her smile changed to a frown. She stalked toward him with feline grace, until they stood exactly two feet apart.

Even at barely five foot two inches tall, she seemed to fill the room with her presence. She wore standard issue fleet overalls, a uniform she favored almost exclusively when serving on ship. These had been cut off just above the elbows, displaying the impressive musculature of her arms. The Chief was uncommonly strong for a human, having been born on the high gravity human colony planet of Hibernia. Her hair was styled in a manner that crewmen and noncommissioned officers called a 'high and tight.' Shaved nearly to the skin on the side of the head, her hair stood up on top, predominately black, peppered with a smattering of gray. Her facial features were what humans would call pleasing, but not of the kind that would inspire overtly sentimental romantic feelings. Her jaw was strong, but her nose and mouth were a touch too large for her face to achieve that perfect symmetry human males seemed to value so much. Spock considered her eyes to be her most distinctive feature. They were green in color, and were the most reliable indication of her mood on her otherwise normally stoic face. If his judgment was correct, what he saw in those eyes now was impending mischief.

"How is me beautiful Vulcan sir?"

Spock smiled inwardly. Chief Floinn was the only human he knew that could achieve this level of untoward familiarity with such respect. "I am well Chief. It is pleasing to be in your presence once again." And it was. After the turmoil of the last four weeks, it was good to be in the company of someone he trusted without reservation. At his declaration her smile returned.

"Such a way with words ye have sir. I do thank ye kindly for that. Now come here Commander, and give up that proper hug that ye promised to me."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not making any money on this.

Chapter Two: The Ensign Connection

With only a moments hesitation, Spock stepped forward into her embrace, wrapping his long lean arms around her muscular shoulders. Strong arms encircled his waist, and Chief Floinn laid her head against his chest with a sign. In his minds eye, Spock thought back to how she had cajoled that promise from him eight months ago, when they had parted after serving together as shipmates for more than three years.

_The celebration had been as raucous and maudlin as Spock had expected. In short, it was exactly the kind of gathering that he would normally avoid at all cost. He usually considered parties a distraction at best, a necessary evil to be suffered in the name of morale. This time he was one of the first to arrive, and stayed as long as he could, leaving only for an hour to relieve those who had duty on the bridge, so they could join in the festivities. This change in attitude had nothing to do with the activity itself, and everything to do with the reason for it. It was a farewell reception for the two people he respected the most, after his parents. Captain Pike had been recalled to Terra to oversee the fitting out of Starfleet's newest ship, the Enterprise. Returning with him was the Valiant's Chief of the Boat, Muirne Floinn, to serve in that capacity on the same ship. _

_From his vantage point, as far from where the alcohol was served as he could be, Spock watched the festivities, content for the most part to remain in the background. Many elements of the celebration made little sense to him. While individual declarations of the crews appreciation for the guests of honor would seem appropriate, he did not understand why each one had to be accompanied by the drinking of alcoholic beverages. Then there was the dancing. One would think that such activities should take place before the beverage consumption rendered them impossible, but invariably such was not the case in human gatherings. _

_Finally, there was the story telling. The time when strong drink had loosened their inhibitions to the point when the celebrants would begin to relate what they considered humorous anecdotes about each other. The Captain and the Chief were the subject of most of these, and they seemed to enjoy the 'joke' as it were, as much as everyone else. A few were at his expense as well, and he remembered a time when he believed that such stories undermined his authority as a Starfleet officer. When he had stated this opinion to Captain Pike, his mentor assured him that such was not the case. It was rather a sign of respect and acceptance from the crew, that they would speak about him in this manner. As he listened that night, he observed how true that statement was. Spock had expended a great deal of energy and time learning to read what humans were saying not just by listening to their words, but more importantly the tone with which the words were said. What he heard behind the words that were said that night was the affection and respect of the crew toward two shipmates. _

_As the party started to wind down, he went to pay his own respects to the Captain and Chief Floinn. A knot of crewmen and officers had gathered around them and Spock waited patiently for a space to open up. Both of them were smiling, but he detected that Chief Floinn's eyes were red and that tears had tracked their way down her cheeks. Such emotions had once been extremely distasteful to him, but tonight he thought he understood a little better their source. Finally, some of the crew drifted away, and he carefully shouldered his way through, to stand before them. Pike grabbed his hand, quickly squeezing it and then letting go. Then he leaned in close so he could whisper into Spock's ear._

"_Why don't you meet us at the transporter room, at 0600. The Chief and I would like to say our goodbyes to you without all this crowd around."_

"_Yes, of course Captain," he answered, in a perfectly neutral voice that betrayed none of his confusion. "I will see you then."_

_As was invariably the case, he arrived at the transporter five minutes early. Since no operator was present, he did a diagnostic check and programmed the beaming coordinates into the system. At precisely 0600 the door slid open, allowing the Captain and Chief Floinn to come in. Each of them were carrying two large travel bags and Spock observed that the Captain was feeling the effects of the previous night. The Chief on the other hand, was humming some kind of folk song that was native to her planet._

"_Chief…if you're going to subject me to that damned noise again, the least you could do is stay in tune. Or better yet, follow Mr. Spock's example and just keep quiet."_

"_Is me poor Captain not feelin so well?" She inquired after flashing Spock a quick grin. _

"_You see the kind of respect I get Mr. Spock?" Pike growled in mock indignation. He could be certain that the Captain was not really angry, because of the grin on his face._

"_Tis not me ye should be blamin for all the liquor that ye indulged in sir."_

"_True enough. But I'll bet you that Spock doesn't have to take the kind of lip from his chief that you give me every day."_

"_I know that this is so sir, for me niece has nothing but the utmost respect for the Lieutenant Commander, being that he is such a temperate gentleman."_

_Her mention of Petty Officer Baeill gave Spock an opening to inquire about something that he had wondered about. "I had expected Chief Petty Officer Baeill to be here as well."_

"_We said our goodbyes last night sir. Didn't want the girl to go cryin all over me only clean uniform."_

_Pike chuckled quietly as they both set their bags down by the transporter pad. Then he walked over to Spock, who snapped to attention as his Captain stood before him. They just stood there for a minute, Vulcan and Human; face to face._

"_When you came on board the Valiant, I had my doubts Mr. Spock," Pike said at last in a rough voice. "Not from any misgiving as to your intelligence or preparation. My main worry was that you were the first citizen of Vulcan to graduate from Star Fleet Academy. Being the first is never an easy thing. The pressure of expectations can be unrelenting. But you quickly laid my concerns to rest sir. By the second month of our journey together, it was obvious that I had gotten an invaluable addition to my staff. What I didn't realize at the time was that I was getting a friend as well. It has been an honor to serve with you."_

"_Nothing has gratified me more then to hear you call me your friend Captain," Spock responded in a perfect Vulcan monotone. "Whatever I know concerning leadership, whatever understanding I have gained in regards to my shipmates, I have you and Chief Floinn to thank. Without your unfailing patience and support, I would not even know what friendship was, much less be able to name you both as such."_

"_Such a sweet talker ye have become sir," the Chief murmured, before looking at Captain Pike and clearing her throat._

_Pike looked confused for a moment, then abruptly slapped his forehead. "Sorry, but I seem to have forgotten something. I'll be right back."_

"_Take your time Captain," she called after him and then turned to face Spock. _

"_So far ye have come sir," she whispered quietly, her normally thick accent softened._ "_Proud ye must be of all ye have accomplished. Yet ye are humble, and willing to learn from the likes of me and the other good crew of this ship."_

"_Pride in doing ones duty is illogical," he stated, careful not to deny that he did feel a certain sense of accomplishment with regard to his time served on the Valiant. "As for learning from you and the crew, it is only logical to look for knowledge from those who possess it."_

"_I have a request of ye sir, something I have be wanting to do since the first day I laid eyes on ye."_

"_You have only to ask Chief."_

"_I would very much like to hug you sir."_

_Spock blinked twice, his back stiffening slightly, and then slowly nodded._

_Chief Floinn smiled at him, stifling a laugh. "Relax sir, tis not as if I'm askin for a kiss." Then she stepped forward and threw her arms around his waist, squeezing him harder then he would have expected. They stood that way for several seconds until she cleared her throat._

"_I'll have ye know sir, that hugging is an activity that is best enjoyed when both parties participate."_

_With only a slight hesitation, Spock raised his arms from his sides and gingerly laid them on her shoulders._

"_Tis better sir," she said, in a voice suddenly thick with emotion, "but your technique is much in need of improvement. The next time we meet, we'll be tryin this once more." They stood that way for several more seconds. Then, just before they separated, Chief Floinn's right hand slipped down to Spock's posterior, and quickly gave him a hard squeeze._

_They stepped back, with both Spock's eyebrows disappearing into his bangs and the Chief chuckling. Then they both turned to the door in surprise at the sound of Captain Pike's laughter._

"_Sorry Spock," he said, after wiping his eyes, "I should have warned you that the Chief has wandering hands."_

"_That is untrue sir," she retorted in mock indignation. "I was just taking the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity."_

"_Precisely what was it you were curious about Chief?"_

"_Well sir, after staring at your backside these last three years, I was just wanting to know if it was as fine and wonderful to feel as it was to look at."_

"_I can only say," Spock answered dryly, "that your thirst for knowledge is admirable."_

_Captain Pike laughed loudly, while the Chief just grinned at him. Their reaction pleased him, and he suddenly realized that after the events of the last day he would need extra meditation time. Such was often the case during his time on the Valiant. Captain Pike and Chief Floinn gathered their bags, while he went to take the transporter controls. When they had settled on the pads he looked up and spoke._

"_Chief Floinn, I shall endeavor to improve the proficiency of my embrace. I look forward to your evaluation of my success when we next meet."_

"_That's a promise I will hold ye to sir. And remember, practice makes perfect." _

"_Peace and long life," he intoned, raising his right hand in the Vulcan salute._

"_Live long and prosper," they both answered with a smile, as they saluted him in turn._

_Then he initiated the transporter sequence, watching as the effect absorbed their familiar features. Moments later, only he remained. For a minute, he stood watching the place that they had been, before leaving to go to his quarters. He had nearly an hour before his bridge shift started, and he needed very much to spend it in meditation._

"Has my technique improved to your satisfaction Chief?"

"Indeed it has sir," she said, "but I had no fear that ye would not do better. Ye always were one to master a skill when ye set your mind to it."

Her hands started to wander, and for a moment Spock thought she would repeat her action from their last encounter. However, she merely patted him on his ribs with the open palms of her hands. Then she was suddenly stepping back out of his embrace. When she looked up at him again, the smile she had worn had changed to an angry scowl.

"Would ye mind telling me Commander what it is ye are doing here, when ye should be on leave recuperating from your injuries."

"I do not understand what you are referring to Chief."

"He asks me to what I'm referring," she responded, biting off each word. "Ye told me not two minutes ago that ye were well. You most certainly are not…sir. As soon as I came though that door, I thought to me self he looked thinner, and not at all his normal healthy self, but me eyes are not as sharp as they once were. But when we hugged, I knew I was right, for I could feel the bones under ye skin where I could not before."

For a moment, Spock considered what to tell her. His orders from Admiral Nogura had been quite explicit. He was to say nothing about what happened to the Valiant beyond what was necessary to inform his immediate family that he was unharmed. That had taken place shortly after he had regained consciousness on Star Base 14. Because of the distances involved, even subspace communication could not happen in real time, so he had only been able to exchange messages with his parents. Spock later realized that this was fortunate, for he doubted his ability to maintain perfect control of his emotions if he had actually had to talk with his mother.

While his father had received Spock's reassurance of his health with perfect equanimity, she had reacted with all the emotionalism that he had come to expect from her. In this case, he found himself to be strangely gratified. While he could not allow himself to experience the pain of what had happened, it seemed proper that someone would. Since then he had given a statement to a board on inquiry and spent parts of several days answering their questions. That had been impersonal, his testimony a simple recounting of the facts as he knew them. That was not what was called for now. Despite orders, he knew that he would have to be more forthcoming with the Chief then he was able to be with his parents. They after all, were mainly concerned with him. She had know the vast majority of the crew, and some of those who had perished she considered friends. While he could not allow himself to experience the feeling of grief, as a Vulcan he was familiar with the concept.

"Such weight loss is typical for a Vulcan who has spent eight days in a healing trance."

"Eight days ye say! What a crock they handed the Captain. Pardon me anger sir, but Captain Pike made inquiries concerning you and me niece, and was assured that you were both in good health."

"Chief Petty Officer Baeill was injured, but not seriously."

"I know that sir," she growled, "as I was finally able to get word from her, no thanks to the fecking cafflers over at Personal. As me niece, they could not deny me a message to her, much as they tried to." Her face, twisted into a mask of anger, suddenly turned even redder as she realized what she had just said. "Begging ye pardon sir, for me intemperate language."

"It is perfectly understandable Chief," he answered, inclining his head slightly. "Most everyone in the fleet shares your low opinion of Starfleet's Personal Department." He paused for a moment to consider his next question. "Is Petty Officer Baeill well?" He had not seen the young woman since he had drifted into the healing trance four weeks ago.

"Yes she is, very much so sir. Though I think the shock of what happened still weights heavily on her. She did also make sure to tell me that neither she nor those that survived would have done so were it not for what ye did."

"Chief, what exactly do you know in regard to the Valiant?"

"Precious little sir. Even the Captain's contacts refuse to speak with him about it. Tis all so very bolloxed up to think it would do any harm to release the bleedin casualty list."

Spock hesitated a moment, but he could not help but agree. "As you are no doubt aware, I am under orders not to discuss what transpired with anyone. However, I can not help but agree that it is illogical to keep the identities of those who died a secret."

Taking up his PADD, he touched the screen, bringing up a file that he had prepared. The names of those who had perished aboard the Valiant. He caught her eyes, nodded, and slipped the device into her hand. Chief Floinn stood silently, her body unconsciously drawn to attention, her face set in stone, as she read each of the thirty-five names on the display. Then she bowed her head, her body racked by a single, shuddering, sob

"Sorry sir," she muttered, after dashing her right forearm over her eyes. "Tis foolishness to carry on so, when the time to mourn them is so far past."

"I disagree Chief. For you, grief is a healthy emotion. One that even Vulcans understand. That you did not know of their fate until now is something you can hardly be faulted for."

"Beggin ye pardon sir, but we humans often blame ourselves for that which we should not. Though I know nothing of how or why they perished, I cannot help but to think I should have been there, to lend a hand or even to die with them."

Spock simply nodded. He had learned from hard experience that at times like this, the last thing a human needed was a critique on the rationality of their emotions. "Your duty called you elsewhere Chief, that you were not on the Valiant was no fault of yours, or the Captains."

"I didn't have to go," she whispered, almost to her self.

Then she herself drew up, straightened her shoulders, and wiped her eyes again. "I thank ye kindly for telling me what I wished to know sir, but right now, we have a job to do."

She turned abruptly and quickly walked to the door, canceling the lock so it could be opened. Then she ordered the computer tech to come in and assist them, while the security man remained on watch. Spock instructed the tech to copy the entire contents of the Academy message server onto a portable data storage device, while he and the Chief finished reading Ensign Hahn's messages. They were both of the opinion that examining his personal effects would constitute a better use of their time. However, while the Judge Advocate had approved confining Mr. Hahn to quarters, she had only allowed his personal possessions to be sequestered, citing lack of evidence to compel a search.

"I can see nothing here that is useful," he remarked, after a tedious stretch of reading, "except for this exchange of messages between Ensign Hahn and Cadet Roberta Wilson."

"Was she not the young lady whose grades were altered sir?"

"Affirmative." Spock selected three messages, placing them side by side on the display.

"Here," he said pointing at the first, "we have Cadet Wilson strongly objecting to marks she has received in her Diagnostic Programming class. Mr. Hahn offers in return that something might be done to improve her grade. Then in response Ms. Wilson thanks him for keeping his promise to help her academically and promises to show her gratitude…in a more active way."

"Makes no sense sir. Why would he not delete such an exchange of messages?"

"From what I have read to this point, Mr. Hahn has not impressed me with his intelligence or forethought."

"Tis what comes from thinking with the little head sir. And from all these male enhancement messages, me suspicion would be that it's a tiny one indeed."

Spock slowly blinked. "I have seen a photograph of Ensign Hahn Chief, and I can assure you his physiognomy is normal. I do not see…" At this point he stopped, because the Chief had placed both hands over her face, and was shaking vigorously.

"Sorry sir, tis not respectful I know, but I could not help me self."

"I fail to see…ah, little head is a euphemism."

"Yes sir," she answered not quite able to control her laughter.

"Interesting. Colloquial Standard seems to contain an endless variety of such terms. For what Chief?"

"Pardon sir?

"For what is the term 'little head' a euphemism for?"

"I don't think you'd be wanting to know sir."

"I fail to see why that would be so Chief. In the past, my knowledge of such things has proven to be invaluable in my interactions with your species."

It was nearly half a minute before the Chief could stop laughing long enough to speak coherently. "Very well sir, if ye insist. Tis another term for a man's…penis."

Spock tilted his head slightly to the right. "Fascinating. I had thought I was familiar with all the terms that human males use to describe their sexual organs."

"Really sir," she said with a wicked grin, "and how would you be knowing this?"

"I have excellent hearing, even for a Vulcan."

"Actually sir, tis a euphemism that women favor. Many a man's good sense leaves him when he is…sexually attracted to a woman. They do and say things that they normally would not."

"Ah… their attention becomes so focused on sexual matters, that they lose the power of reason."

"Now your getting it sir."

"That would certainly explain much of the behavior I witnessed when I attended the Academy."

"It would indeed sir," she said with a laugh, "as young men are especially prone to this affliction."

"This state of mind would explain the Ensigns failure to delete the incriminating messages. However, something else about this situation is disquieting. Mr. Hahn, while capable enough around computers, does not seem to possess the skills necessary to gain illegal access to the academic servers of the Computer Sciences Department. Needless to say, they are extraordinarily well protected."

"Tis a most excellent point sir," the Chief answered, shaking her head. "How did a wanker like Hahn worm his way in?" Suddenly she slapped herself on the forehead and laughed.

"Are you well Chief?

"Oh yes sir," she answered with a giggle. "Do ye remember Petty Officer O'Rourke sir?"

Spock didn't exactly grimace. At least in human terms. But there was a reaction. One that Chief Floinn recognized as profound distaste. The corners of mouth turned down slightly, and thin crease appeared in the center of his forehead. The last time she had seen that expression was on Beta-Gamma 5, when the local equivalent of a city mayor had invited them to feast on some kind of animal meat slowly roasting on a spit. He just stared at her for several seconds, eyes slowly blinking. Then he shook his head.

"Chief, as you are well aware…"

"…Vulcans never forget sir."

"Indeed. Though, in the case of Mr. O'Rourke, one would desire to make an acceptation."

"Oh no, not at all sir. He was an artist, he was. Knew all the tricks of getting on. The one I'm remembering was when he jiggered the food sequencers so he would always be getting double deserts. The bleedin gobshite was especially fond of pie, as I look back on it."

One eyebrow rose slightly, as he recalled that Petty Officer O'Rourke was a rather large man. Still, he could not see the connection between his poor nutritional habits and their present situation. "How is this pertinent Chief?"

"Would ye kindly access Ensign Hahn's academic records sir," she answered with a grin.

Once the requested data was displayed, Chief Floinn came over to stand at Spock's shoulder. "There it is sir. In his senior year at the Academy, Mr. Hahn served as student aid to Professor Thomas Watson…"

"…who was Cadet Wilson's instructor for Diagnostic Programming. Interesting. Chief, how does one make the connection between Mr. Hahn's malfeasance and the desire for too much pie?"

"Tis the pass codes sir. It was proven that Mr. O'Rourke was given the codes to the food sequencers so that he could help with menu input. Being the man he was, he saved this information, waited nearly seven months, and began to use it to his benefit. Me thought was that Ensign Hahn is the same type of person."

"It has been nearly eighteen months since Mr. Hahn was Professor Watson's aide."

"Tis a valid point sir, but as you well know, most people detest the very thought of changing their pass codes."

"I change mine daily."

"Oh, I have no doubt of it sir."

"Granted," he went on after a few seconds, "that your supposition is correct, it would not prove that Mr. Hahn actually used the professor's pass code, only that he had the means to possibly gain assess to it."

"Which is what we need sir, to get the Judge Advocate off her…posterior and allow us to examine Mr. Hahn's possessions."

"Then by all means let us marshal our data, such as it is, and present it to her."

"Tis near 2200 sir. The Judge Advocate will not see us before 0800 tomorrow."

"Chief, surely you are not proposing that we suspend our efforts at this point. We have not even established that Mr. Hahn actually altered Cadet Wilson's grades, merely that perchance he had means and a motive to do so."

"Until we can have us a talk with Ensign Hahn or get the JA to sign off on a search of his possessions, there is nothing more for us to be about. In truth, tis the perfect place for ye to leave off sir."

"I see no logical reason to cease our efforts at this time."

"Oh really sir? Did ye not tell me that you were sorely hurt just four weeks ago. Are ye even cleared to return to duty?"

"The Chief Medical Officer of Star base 14 certified that I was fit for light duty."

"Beggin me pardon sir, but ye are not well, and ye know it. Why did ye even agree to do this?"

"Because Captain Pike requested my aid."

"No doubt sir," she sighed, "the Captain has only to ask and we come running."

"Chief, I assure you I am fit to…"

"I'll not be havin it sir," she exclaimed, then looked away for a moment. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I have always admired your good sense Commander. It would please me very much for ye to make use of it now."

Good sense. Spock recognized the term as yet another euphemism, this one having to do with what passed for logic among most humans. Apparently, his was not even up to those standards. Since he had awakened from his healing trance at Starbase 14, he had been fighting the logic of what he had been forced to do. More then rest, he craved the calm of meditation to restore his mind to it's proper working order.

"Very well Chief," he said after a few moments. "I shall accept your sensible advise and seek my rest."

"Very good sir. The Captain will be wanting us at 0730 hours for breakfast. The appearance before the JA will be at 0800. We also have a meeting scheduled at 0900 with Admiral Nogura and Commandant Larsen. I'm thinking they'll be asking about our progress."

"Admiral Nogura? Interesting."

"Hah! Me eyes nearly popped out of me head when the Captain said who it was in the Admiralty was taking a personal interest in this mess sir."

"Correct me if I am mistaken Chief. I have heard talk to the effect that the Admiral is not well disposed to the Academy."

"Tis more then talk sir. Shipped out with the Admiral twice I have, and he made no secret of his belief that Academy training makes for a poorly prepared officer. Tis no surprise really sir, being that he's a mustang."

"The Admiral was promoted from the ranks?"

"Yes sir. It was a battlefield commission."

"Chief, is the Admiral's opinion widely held?"

"Tis a difficult question ye have asked sir," she answered with a sigh. "I can only speak for me self in this respect. These last few years, I have noticed that while they are very well up on their head knowledge, many of the new officers have not been well schooled in the practical aspects of serving on a ship. And more then a few are not willing to learn."

"Perhaps this is the Admiral's reason for taking an interest in our investigation."

"Oh tis more then taking an interest sir. According to the Captain, it was Nogura who demanded it."

"I would be interested to know the Admiral's reasons for inserting himself into this matter. However, his request for a meeting does complicate matters."

"Tis not a request, coming from the Admiral sir," she stated with a frown. "So if ye have anything on ye schedule short of a meeting with the Vulcan High Counsel, I suggest ye clear it."

"It is not my schedule that presents the difficulty."

Briefly, he explained to her his early encounter with Cadet Gaila, and his concern over the possibility that she might be one of the those Ensign Hahn had offered to assist in return for sexual favors. While he admitted the odds were small that a free Orion woman would allow such a thing to happen, he felt it was something he could not overlook.

"An Orion woman letting a chancer like Hahn put one over her? Not likely sir," she snorted. "But if ye would like me to, I'll be glad to give the a lass a talking to."

"I would be most appreciative Chief. I took the liberty of arranging a 0900 appointment for Cadet Gaila at the Master Chief's Office."

"Tis not something that ye should go thanking me for sir," she answered with a wink. "Being that it falls to you to explain to the Admiral why I cannot keep my appointment with him."

It was well after midnight when he arrived at the temporary quarters Captain Pike had procured for him at the graduate students housing complex. It was a small efficiency apartment, with a tiny kitchen just off the sitting room and a small bedroom with an attached head. The sitting room had a few chairs, a small couch and a very large comm unit that was beeping. Apparently he had messages.

He was gratified to find his luggage waiting for him just inside the door. Hefting the large bags easily, he carried them to the small bedroom, setting them down at the foot of the bed. He unzipped one of the bags and removed two candles and a lighter. Not the best of tools with which to meditate, but as his firepot had been destroyed on the Valiant, he would have to make do. Opening another bag, he removed his meditation robe. After a quick trip to the head to wash and change he entered the sitting room and carefully placed the candle on a small table just under the single window. Then he turned to the comm unit.

His first impulse was to turn it off. He would require several hours of uninterrupted meditation if he was to make any kind of start in bringing his emotions fully under control. Except that one of those messages was probably from his mother. While he had not informed her that he would be going to Terra after he left Starbase 14, she would have no hesitation availing herself of his father excellent intelligence network to determine his location. With something like a sigh he activated the comm. There was a message from Admiral Nogura, no doubt wondering why Spock had failed to contact him upon his arrival on Terra. There was also a message from Captain Pike and three others from someone named Nyota Uhura. Eyebrow raised, he played the message from his former Captain.

"Mr. Spock, it's good to have you on board for this, even if the whole thing stinks. Chief Floinn seems to think you'd be better off taking it easy for a while, and if you decide you need to take a step back from this mess, I'll understand. The Chief said that you…I'd like those names Spock. I have some letters I need to write. I'm sorry Spock, sorry that I wasn't there. The Valiant was the best command and crew I've ever had and I should have been there for all of you. Get some rest…I'll see you tomorrow."

Spock stared at the screen for quite some time after the message ended. Captain Pike had offered similar words of apology when he had first contacted him just two days ago. At that time, Spock had pointed out the illogic in accepting responsibility for something that he had nothing to do with. Yet the Captain persisted in his apparent feelings of guilt. Humans. Even with a very human mother and nearly eight years attending the Academy and serving in Starfleet, they could still surprise him. He was reaching for the comm, deciding that an answer to his friend's message could not wait, when the door chime sounded. With a rising sense of frustration he approached the door and stabbed the intercom button.

"Yes," he said softly, pleased that the emotion he was feeling did not find it's way to his voice.

"I'm looking for Commander Spock. Is he here?" A female voice, agreeable in tone even with the obvious impatience it conveyed.

"I am he," Spock responded, in a level, even voice.

"I need to speak with you sir," she answered, her voice taking on a harsher quality.

"For what reason?"

"Sir…would you please open…"

His exasperation growing, Spock disengaged the lock, allowing the door to open. Several observations rapidly followed. She was a cadet, that much was obvious by the uniform she wore. She was angry at him. Spock had seen that look directed his way enough to know that. She was exquisite. Her aesthetically appealing face, the dark brown lustrous color of her skin, and trim athletic figure. Vulcans did not count physical appearance as an important aspect of a person's worth, as humans often did. Neither did they make a practice of denying the obvious. While beauty was certainly a subjective quality, the reaction Spock felt stirring within himself was anything but. He took a deep breath, centering himself.

"What can I do for you Cadet…?"

"Uhura sir," she answered, in a tone that was hardly respectful. "You can explain to me why you are harassing my roommate."

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. Drop me a line if you like what you're reading. Or even if you don't! **


	3. Chapter 3

Shipmates Chapter Three: A Vulcan's Choice

For a moment, Spock was speechless. He could not be sure whether it was the absurdity of the accusation, or the effect of Cadet Uhura's proximity that was the cause. Mentally he replayed the 22.45 hours he had been on Terra. Though he had interacted with several cadets, he had only exchanged more then a few words with one.

"You are Cadet Gaila's roommate?"

"And her friend sir," the young woman answered in an angry tone. "I object to the way you are treating her."

"I dispute the notion that our conversation in any way constituted harassment on my part."

"You questioned her about her personal life. You _**implied **_that she was trading sex for time on the core computer. Do you even know what an insult that is to a free Orion woman?"

"I did no such thing Cadet," he replied in a clipped voice. The irritation that had been tickling at his control that last several hours was rapidly giving way to anger. "In any event, this is none of your concern."

"The hell it isn't," she snapped back, stepping closer to him. She smelled of jasmine, and some floral scent he could not identify. "As a cadet, Gaila has rights! She has the right to know why she is being investigated and by who. She has a right to know…"

"You have made several erroneous assumptions Cadet Uhura," he interrupted, his patience at an end. "First of all, Cadet Gaila is not under investigation. Her interview with Chief Floinn is for informational purposes only. Then there is the belief you seem to have that this is an Academy sanctioned inquiry. I assure you it is not, and as such it is not constrained by the Academy Compact."

"What! Are you telling me that the Provost isn't aware…"

"Enough. You will come to attention Cadet Uhura." She just stood there, staring at him in what he believed to be affronted outrage. "Now Cadet," he exclaimed, loud enough that he is sure anyone on the floor had heard him.

She hesitated for just a second more, then teeth gritted and hands clenched, she snapped into the required posture. A door opened at the end of the hall and someone's head popped out. Andorian. He turned toward the person and shook his head. The Andorian retreated back inside his apartment. He let the quiet linger for a few moments, as he wrapped the tattered remnants of his control around his anger.

"Now," he began, when he was feeling calm again, "as I told Cadet Gaila, I am not at liberty to discuss the details of this investigation."

"Permission to speak freely sir!"

"No Cadet, I think not. I believe it would be a more efficient use of our time if I speak and you listen. This inquiry has reached a critical juncture. I estimate that there is a 93.63 percent chance that the details will become public in the next forty-eight hours. Until that occurs, you will not discuss this with anyone. Do I make myself clear?"

"I can't do that."

"Pardon Cadet…would you care to repeat that last statement?"

"I can't do that…sir."

"Explain yourself Cadet."

"Gaila is entitled under the Academy Compact to appeal to the Provost if she feels her rights have been violated. I intend to lodge a protest with him as well. This so called investigation you're conducting is illegal under the terms of our Compact…sir."

"Cadet Uhura, the Provost has been relieved of his duties."

For several seconds Uhura just stood there, ramrod straight, eyes to the front, her mouth hanging open. "I don't…how could you...?"

"You seem to be under the mistaken apprehension that this is my investigation. Do you think I would be granted the authority to removed a Rear Admiral from his post?"

She closed her mouth, and swallowed. "No sir."

"Who would you think has such authority Cadet?"

"Someone…much higher up the chain of command sir."

"Indeed he is Cadet. Someone who will be most displeased if _**his **_investigation is hampered in any way. Do I make myself clear Cadet?"

"Yes…yes you do sir."

"You are dismissed Cadet."

"I remain convinced what you are doing to Gaila is a miscarriage of justice."

She had uttered that last sentence in perfect Vulcan. He had turned away to slip back into his apartment. Her words stopped him, and when he turned to face her again, his face was a perfect Vulcan mask.

"Tell me Cadet, when you are an officer in Starfleet, do you think that you will find all your duties to be agreeable?"

"Sorry Commander," she retorted coolly, "but that won't fly. If it was something you really didn't want to do, then you would have found a way not to do it."

Spock was briefly conflicted by her statement. The Vulcan in him was some what horrified by the notion of avoiding duty, while his human tendency was merely amused by her certainty. "That is what you would do Cadet?"

"That's right sir," she replied with all the conviction of youth.

"Then you will have a very brief career as a Starfleet officer. Good night Cadet."

Hours later, deep within his meditative state, he was finally able to view what had happened to him four weeks ago with something approaching objectivity. Meditation had allowed him to suppress the turmoil within that had plagued him since he had regained consciousness on Starbase 14. Anger, grief, and guilt had each been leashed, and for the first time in weeks he was at peace with what had happened. But not with what he had done. Because of his actions that day, eighteen of his shipmates had died. That those same actions had saved the remaining crew gave him no comfort at all. He could find no flaw in the logic that caused him to act as he had. Rationally, he knew there had been no other choice. The needs of the many.

The question before him was what choice he would make now. He thought back to the most important decision he had ever made. The day he had refused selection to the Vulcan Science Academy. That morning with his mother, his whole future was in front of him, precisely calculated and carefully mapped. Even at the moment when he stood before the board members to be told of his acceptance, nothing had changed. Then, in the space of less then a minute, his whole world had been reordered. What happened in that short space of time had nothing to do with logic. Logic would have him swallow the insult, and that was something he would not do. Logic would not have sent him far from the only home he had ever know, to enter Starfleet Academy. It had been the most illogical decision he had ever made. And the best.

Logically he should accept what had happened on the Valiant, learn from it, and continue on. He considered the words Cadet Uhura had spoken a few hours ago. "If it was something you really didn't want to do, then you would have found a way not to do it." Illogical. One does not avoid a duty simply because it runs counter to one's inclinations. Yet, while it had no application to his actions on the Valiant, it was very much pertinent to his situation now. If he continued on his present career track, it was quite possible that at some point he would again find himself in a situation comparable to that which he had experienced on the Valiant. Logical or not, that was a position he would not allow himself to be placed in again.

Slowly he drifted back to full consciousness, exhausted by the mental effort he had exerted, his mind well ordered and emotions fully controlled for the first time in weeks. With some effort he rose from the floor and shuffled into the bedroom, shedding his meditation robe. After setting the climate controls to something near Vulcan normal, he crawled into bed. He would allow himself four hours of sleep. An indulgence? Perhaps, but as Captain Pike was fond of saying, he had earned it.

The morning found him well rested, a refreshing change from the last few weeks. The air felt comfortably warm as he rolled out of bed and padded to the head. After a quick shower, he copied the list of those who had died on the Valiant from his PADD into the comm unit, sending it to Captain Pike. He recognized that there was a certain logic to the process of morning among humans. His friend would demonstrate his respect for the deceased by offering comfort to their families through the letters he would compose, while he found emotional solace for himself by acknowledging their sacrifice. As a Vulcan, Spock had no desire to experience the sentiment of grief, but he was more then willing to honor them by calling to mind their time together, as was the custom of his people.

Several were little more then a name and a face to him. Others he knew quite well. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he could recall every word ever spoken to him, everything he had ever read, the total sum of his life experience practically from the moment of birth. In his remembrance they stood watch together, shared landing party missions, discussed the difficulties of their assignments, interacting in the multitude of ways that life aboard the Valiant afforded them. Bonds thus formed in the performance of their duties were further strengthened by the numerous recreational activities that the crew engaged in. Some of the most educational had been with shipmates who had not survived.

There were martial arts lessons from Master at Arms Ross, philosophical conversations with First Officer Davies, instruction in the art of baking tarts from Lieutenant Ngoni, and Chinese language lessons for Petty Officer Jiang. When he had joined the ship, Spock was of the opinion that anything extraneous to his proscribed duties would be a distraction. The ships mission being exploration, he had signed up to participate in a voyage of discovery, not squander his time engaging in extra curricular activities that did not contribute to the operational efficiency of the Valiant.

That this was a typically Vulcan trait he understood with the benefit of four years hindsight, one that normally served his people well. Focus on that which is important, ignore that which is extraneous. Fortunately for his development as an officer, someone on the Valiant had a different set of priorities. This was made clear to him on the third day of the Valiant's mission, when he had the first of what turned out to be many conversations about what was expected of an officer with Captain Pike.

_Outwardly his appearance was the same, head slightly bend (at the suggestion of his Academy advisor, direct eye contact with Vulcans intimidated most humans), as he marched down the corridor, seemingly oblivious to the stares he still received after a week on the Valiant. Lack of awareness somewhat obviated the awkwardness, so he allowed those around him to assume that he did not notice. Which this day was for the most part true, as he had larger aquatic fined vertebrates to cook. Inwardly he grimaced, wondering how Commander Davies had managed so a absurd a declaration with such conviction. _

_Perhaps he should have approached her about this. There had seemed no need to do so this morning, when he had received a message from the Captain requesting his presence at 1900 in his conference room. Since he had already had his introductory interview with Captain Pike four days ago, he was at a loss for the reason why another was needed. His concern would never have progressed to a sense of alarm were it not for the remark of Petty Officer Lomis, who expressed his dismay that the head of his department was being called into an unscheduled meeting with the Captain. A quick canvas of all immediately available ship's personal confirmed the opinion that such a conference with one's commanding officer was never a good thing. Perhaps it would have been wiser to allow the Captain to win at chess._

_His arrival at the entrance to the Captain's conference room was several minutes early, which afforded him some moments to compose himself. Reviewing his first week on the Valiant, Spock recalled a single anomalous event that could possibly be a reason for Captain Pike's summons. He had been under the impression that she had excused his error, even if what he had done had greatly unsettled her. His perception at the time was that their misunderstanding had been resolved, and they had parted on good terms. Of course considering his knowledge of human behavior, and his current position outside Captain Pike's office, there was some possibility he was in error. Straightening to attention, he jabbed the intercom, determined to relate the facts fully and accept his Captain's judgment._

"_Come on in Mr. Spock," the Captain drawled, in a relaxed voice. _

_Interesting he thought. While he often missed the subtle details of emotion that humans conveyed through their tone of voice, his superior officer seemed unperturbed. The visual details he observed only reinforced that notion. Captain Pike was seated at a table with several PADDs spread out in front of him. At the center of the table was a steaming pot of Vulcan herbal tea and another of what he assumed was coffee. There was also an old fashioned 2-D chess board set up. _

"_Have a seat Spock, I'll be right with you. Just need to make sure I filled out these forms correctly."_

"_Thank you Captain, but I prefer to stand."_

_Pike's head immediately jerked up. While not adept at reading human expressions, he was reasonably certain the Captain was exhibiting signs of a fairly normal human condition known as confusion. _

"_Do you want to explain to me what's going on Mr. Spock?"_

"_I wish to state for the record sir, that it was never my intention to cause Petty Officer Baeill psychological distress. If I had been cognizant that the effect of my disassembly of the core computers main data trunk would be to disturb her emotional equilibrium, I certainly would have proceeded with more caution."_

"_What the hell are you talking about Lieutenant?"_

"_The reason why you called me to this meeting sir."_

"_Sit down Spock," Pike ordered, sounding a lot less relaxed then he had just a minute ago. "Pour yourself some tea. I'll be right back." The Captain rose from his chair, walking through the open door into his private chambers, shaking his head. When he returned less then a minute later, he was holding a large brown bottle and two glasses._

"_I think I need a drink. Care to join me?"_

_Normally, Spock passed on any invitation to sample alcoholic beverages. However, even he recognized that one did not refuse your commanding officer when he made the offer to you. Spock simply nodded, and was pleased that the Captain poured him a relatively small amount. While alcohol did not adversely effect Vulcans, Spock had never appreciated the taste. _

"_Alright Lieutenant," Pike said after several minutes of silently sipping his drink, "I think I'm ready to hear your explanation now."_

"_As I have already stated sir, Petty Officer Baeill became highly agitated when she chanced to observe my disassembly of the core..."_

"_I already got that Spock," Pike interrupted, rubbing a hand across his face. "Do you have any idea why she was, as you put it, agitated?"_

"_The young woman seemed to think it unusual that any officer would be engaged in such a task."_

"_That's part of it, but you're missing the bigger picture. What would your reaction be if you saw me trying to repair the anti-matter containment field generator?"_

"_I would be highly alarmed Captain." Spock paused to steeple his fingers. "When seen in that light, Ms Baeill's reaction has a certain logic to it. She was simply concerned with my competence to properly perform repairs on the ships computer." _

"_Not all that surprising Spock. As a new officer, you'll find that most of the crew will assume you are incompetent until you prove them wrong." _

"_Interesting. As a Vulcan, this is something I have rarely experienced sir."_

_Pike chuckled as he poured a cup of coffee. "Welcome to the real universe Lieutenant. Don't worry, I'm sure that a few weeks of working with you will allay any of the crews concerns."_

"_I believe you are correct Captain, at least in regard to Petty Officer Baeill. She closely observed my repair work under the guise of assisting me, and seemed well satisfied with the results. She did however, voice doubt that I could possibly be an officer."_

"_Really. Well if what you say is true, I'm damned impressed Mr. Spock. Baeill is one of the best noncoms on this ship, but she doesn't much care for officers, especially new ones."_

"_Perhaps congratulations are premature sir. While I believed Ms. Baeill and I had resolved our differences, the fact that you summoned me to discuss this matter proves that I was in error."_

"_Well Spock," his captain answered with a grin, "you've got one thing right. You definitely made a mistake. This is the first I've heard of any misunderstanding between you and Baeill."_

"_I do not understand Captain. If the incident with Petty Officer Baeill was not the reason you sent for me, then what was?"_

"_Revenge for one" Pike replied, gesturing at the chess board, "I don't like to lose. But this is mainly about leadership Mr. Spock." Selecting one of the PADDs in front of him, he slid it across the table to the Vulcan._

_Catching it easily, Spock quickly scanned the display. There were six messages on it, each of which had been sent to his personal comm link over the last three days. They were invitations, offering him the chance to sign up for various activities that humans referred to as recreation. As they had nothing to do with his ship board duties and were in his opinion a waste of time, he had declined them all._

"_Each officer on this ship received six of these messages Lieutenant. You were the only one to refuse them all."_

"_I do not understand Captain," Spock answered stiffly, "what declining to involve myself in superfluous diversions has to do with leadership."_

"_In a word; morale Mr. Spock. It's a long voyage, nearly twenty weeks until we reach the sector that Starfleet has assigned to us. In my experience the crew need these so called diversions to keep on top of things. So First Officer Davies and Chief of the Boat Floinn have set up a recreational program designed to keep the crew engaged. As an officer, it's your duty to set an example. If you don't participate, why should they?"_

"_Captain, while morale is a worthy goal, I submit that I am singularly ill equipped to contribute in this area. In addition, as I already have signed up to work in two separate sections of Sciences, and have been appointed ship's officer in charge of Computer Maintenance and Programming, I believe that my free time can be better utilized in those disciples." _

"_Nothing is more important then crew morale Spock," Pike retorted, a slight edge to his voice. "If you're too busy to participate in this, I can always find someone else to handle some of your duties."_

_Having seen the ships roster, Spock doubted this was possible. However, considering the Captain's tone of voice, he decided it would be unwise to point this out. "Very well Captain. Do you have a preference for which of these recreations I should partake in?"_

"_No. Just pick at least two. I also have a challenge for you. I want you to organize a chess club."_

"_A chess club," he responded, eyebrow raised._

"_There's been one on every ship I've ever served on. No one as come forward on the Valiant, so I was going to do it myself. But I think you're better suited."_

"_Excuse me Captain, if I find that notion highly questionable."_

_Spock had anticipated an angry reaction, but instead his commanding officer tilted his head back in a full throated laugh. Humans. Would he ever be capable of discerning their moods?_

"_That's one of the things I like about you Mr. Spock. Your bluntness. Don't ever hesitate to tell me what you think." Then the smile was gone and he was looking at Spock intently. "I told you that this meeting was about leadership Mr. Spock. Being a leader is about a lot more then learning how to give orders. That's the easy part. It's about finding out what the people in your command need, and making sure they get it."_

"_At the risk of being blunt Captain, I fail to see how any of the activities I have been invited to participate in will enhance my leadership skills."_

"_That's a fair objection Spock. This is about communication, first of all. It's the most vital skill you can have as an officer. You can't be an effective leader if you don't know what they need, and the only way you'll know that is by building relationships with the crew. Right now, you're an unknown quantity to them. Most of the people on this ship don't know anything about Vulcans other than what they see on the nets."_

"_I cannot fault your logic Captain, even if I would rather use some other method of achieving the desired goal."_

_Chuckling, Pike slid the chess board in front of them. "Relax Spock. After all, you did sign up for a voyage of discovery. We're going to see and do some incredible things on this mission. Just make sure you don't limit your field of exploration. Every tour of duty, I learn something new about what a ship and crew are capable of doing. They can teach you a lot Spock."_

Indeed they had. His four year voyage on the Valiant had been the most rewarding experience of his life, both professionally and personally. A tour of duty aboard a deep space exploration vessel was a much sought after posting, one which many officers who served in the sciences had eagerly competed for. Yet, it was the personal side of his experience that had come to have the most meaning for him. Scientific discoveries and professional accomplishments not withstanding, the most significant revelation for him had been the acceptance of his shipmates.

In the beginning, his interaction with the crew had been something of a struggle. They being wary of what they perceived to be unreasonable expectations on his part, while Spock was somewhat alarmed with the emotional chaos of working with humans on a daily basis. Fortunately for him, he had two experienced guides in Captain Pike and Chief Floinn, who helped him to navigate through the difficulties of his first few months, to a place where mutual understanding was possible. It certainly helped that unlike most new officers, Spock was actually proficient in his assigned responsibilities. Though one could hardly call him a charismatic leader, his subordinates came to prefer his capacity for hard work to emotional words of encouragement. Even his characteristic Vulcan bluntness came to be valued, once the Chief and Captain Pike explained to him that sometimes brutal honesty was difficult to swallow unless it was saccharine varnished.

The Valiant had indeed been the perfect environment for him to begin his career as a Starfleet officer. On that ship, he had found a community of people who had valued him for what he could contribute, without being concerned over what he was. It was a mindset that Spock came to characterize as the hard logic of space travel. Those who were instrumental in providing for a safe and harmonious environment were recognized as part of this community, no matter their rank, background, or previous performance. Those who did not were ruthlessly excluded. In contrast, no matter his contributions or accomplishments, those who he considered his people had never allowed for him in the logic they supposedly pursued. They had judged him wanting simply because of his parentage. Which made what had happened all the more painful to him personally, because regardless of the logic involved, it was his considered opinion that his actions had contributed to the destruction of that unique fraternity.

With a flick of his finger, he shut down the PADD. Thirty minutes later he was walking through the Academy campus, dress in the science blue of a star fleet officer. Before he had left, Spock had prepared a request to be taken off the active duty list, but in the end decided that he would not forward it to Starfleet Personal until the investigation was completed.

Perhaps he mused, one could still continue to wear the uniform, while adapting to a different color. He had spent an agreeable year here, doing post-doctorate work, teaching in the sciences and in the language department. Professor Larsen had been pleased to request his assistance in the development of a class in Phonology, a subject he had become interested in during his first year at the Academy. While a career in teaching was not his first choice, he was certain that it was a task he could perform adequately.

Quickening his pace, he took the marble stairs that led to the entrance of the Archer Administrative Center two at a time. His working breakfast with Captain Pike and Chief Floinn was to take place in the Provost's office. As he had memorized the floor plans of every building on campus, he had no need to ask for directions. When he arrived in the reception area, the yeoman on duty simply nodded, so he approached the door and engaged the intercom.

"Enter," responded a flat voice, that was not Captain Pike's. Even more alarming was the person's identity, someone who Spock least wanted to see at the moment. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped up to the door, which slid open for him. Neither Captain Pike nor Chief Floinn were waiting for him. Instead, there was broad shouldered, completely bald man seated behind the former Provost's rosewood antique desk. As he came to attention, he felt a certain chagrin about how easily he had been taken unawares. Regardless of his reputation as a forceful personality, Fleet Admiral Nogura had always favored a stealthy approach.

**Thanks to all who have reviewed. Please take some time to let me know how I am doing. Ideas and criticism are appreciated. Sorry for the delay in getting this out. I'm hoping to produce a new update about every two weeks. Hopefully. Thanks again for the feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Admirable Motives

Admiral Heihachiro Nogura was not favorably disposed toward him. This was mere conjecture on his part, based on his failure to answer his superior's last message. That Fleet Admirals did not react favorably to being ignored was considered so universal a truth, that he felt himself on solid ground concerning his assertion. For several seconds Nogura simply stared at him, with a lack of expression that would have impressed many Vulcans. A pseudonym came to mind, one that he had heard applied to Nogura on several occasions. Moai face. Appropriate, even if the nose was wrong.

"Good morning Commander," Nogura said in a precise, clipped voice. "I'm so glad you could finally make the time to inform me of your progress."

Definitely not pleased to see him. Or perhaps just angry. "Admiral, you have already received my report..."

"It's not a report Spock," Nogura interrupted, his tone biting. Taking a PADD from the desk, he held up in front of him. "It's a damned list Commander, a catalog of possibilities that tells me nothing."

"Considering the lack of data at my disposal, I was forced to include a broad range of viable hypotheses sir."

"And I need certainty Mr. Spock, or at least something that narrows down the number of possible reasons for what happened to the Valiant. About the only thing you seem certain about here, is that whatever occurred was not caused by artificial means."

"Excuse me Admiral, but I do believe my account stated that probability as 99.992 percent sir."

"Forgive me if I don't see the difference Commander."

"With all due respect sir, that is understandable, inasmuch as you are not a scientist."

The admiral glared at him for several seconds, before the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward. "Please sit down Commander," Nogura said softly, gesturing to three identical chairs situated in front of the desk. After Spock had chosen the center one, he activated the comm on his desk.

"Eulogio, a pot of Earl Grey if you please," he asked, looking at Spock, who nodded. "And two cups as well." After the tea had been poured and they were alone again, Nogura leaned back against the chair, his face set in stone once more.

"Why Mr. Spock? What makes you so damned confident that this was not an attack?"

"I would hardly characterize my conclusion as a confident one sir, given the lack of hard data. Rather, I would simply point out that the energy expenditure required to propagate gravity waves of the power and magnitude necessary to inflict the devastation experienced by the Valiant, would make such a weapon a useless one."

"Wait a minute. Now you're telling me you do know what caused this?"

"Negative Admiral. I am only postulating that the type of damage sustained points to a gravimetric event as the most logical possibility."

Nogura accessed the report, clicking through several pages on his PADD. "And you reached this conclusion because of the damage to the inertia compensators?"

"Correct." Spock stood up and walked around the desk, placing his PADD next to the Admiral's. "If I may sir?" He asked and the other man looked up and nodded. Spock touched the screen and a schematic of the Valiant appeared. "At the moment of first contact with the phenomena, two compensators failed, here and here. This precipitated a sequence of events that caused loss of atmosphere due to hull deformation in key areas of the ship."

"And also caused an imbalance in the main engines."

"Yes Admiral," Spock responded after a few seconds. "However, the point here is that the most likely cause would be gravitational waves of extreme power and frequency." Spock touched his PADD again, and it began to cycle through pictures of the destruction. Nogura peered at the images, then shook his head and whistled.

"It's hard to believe anything could do that to a starship's hull."

Spock nodded, tapping his PADD again. Several images of badly degraded machinery were displayed on the screen. "As you can see sir, all the Valiant's inertia compensators suffered significant impairment. If even one more had ceased functioning…"

"You and the rest of the crew would have been splashed all over the ship."

"Indeed sir. The ship itself would have been reduced to it's component molecules in less then a nanosecond."

"Sounds like we have the answer," Nogura muttered, before sipping his tea. "I don't see that we have a reason to move that ship now, Spock."

"Gravitational waves are not the solution sir. They do not propagate without a source. In order to know why the Valiant was destroyed, we must find that source."

"Which is why Commander," Nogura answered in a hard voice, "I need you working on this, not wasting your time helping Pike find a few cheating cadets."

Spock blinked several times, tilting his head slightly. "I assure you Admiral, no one is more desirous of obtaining a solution to this then I am. As I was already enroute to Terra when the Captain requested my aid, I saw no harm in offering assistance."

Nogura poured himself more tea. "You are absolutely sure that bringing the Valiant back to Jupiter Station will give us what we need?"

"As stated in my report sir, I know of no other means by which to extract data of what occurred during those crucial final hours. The ships information systems are too badly damaged for conventional techniques to be effective."

"And there's no way to get her here in less then six weeks?"

"Negative Admiral," Spock replied, with a slight shake of his head. "The engineers would not guarantee the structural integrity of the ship at any speed in excess of Warp 2.5."

"Why not just break down the memory cores and put them on a high warp transport?"

"Due to their delicate condition, they must be examined in situ Admiral. As things stand now, I am not at all certain they will not be further degraded when the Valiant is taken in tow."

"All right then, I'll cut the orders and notify the Chief of Fleet Operations."

"Admiral…perhaps now would be a propitious time to lift the news black out."

"Absolutely not," Nogura answered with a shake of his head. "Nothing goes out to the nets until we have an definitive answer." Spock raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. "What do you want me to tell them Spock? Something happened to one of our ships, but we have no idea what. The Senate would have a field day with that."

"Perhaps mechanical malfunction sir, cause unknown. Technically, it is the truth."

"Is that so? Whatever happened to that famous Vulcan honesty?"

"Perhaps my father was correct sir," Spock answered with a nod. "He did warn me that living among humans would tend to compromise my famous Vulcan standards."

"Why are you pushing for this?"

"Sir, in my opinion, it will not be possible to continue this charade once the Valiant is returned to Sol system. Amateur astronomers from Terra will be able to discern the damage, even if you lock down the repair yards." Spock paused for a second, locking eyes with Nogura.

"Then there is the question of my shipmates to consider. Per you orders, all uninjured members of the Valiant's crew have been confined to Starbase 14 since their rescue. It is past time they were allowed to return to their homes."

Nogura looked away for a second, shrugging his shoulders. "Agreed. I will leave it to you to compose the press release, subject to my approval."

"Of course and…I thank you Admiral, for them."

"You'd better be right about this Spock. If I order the Valiant moved to Jupiter Station and we get nothing out of it, my next command will be a small rock in the Neutral Zone, with you as my first officer."

"If any other option were open to us sir, I would certainly recommend it," Spock answered glancing down at his hands. He did not feel it would be wise to add that were he to follow his personal preferences, he would certainly never set foot on that vessel again.

Nogura tapped his PADD, cycling though several screens. "There is a Ptolemy class tug, the USS Copernicus, that will be available in three days. I want you on board when she warps out."

"Admiral, perhaps it would be more efficient if I were to remain here and prepare…"

"Pike doesn't need you Commander," Nogura interrupted. "I spoke with him this morning. He told me that because of the assistance you provided he's just about ready to wrap his investigation up. Which is more then I can say for you."

"Very well sir," Spock nodded, rising smoothly to his feet. "Please give my regards to…"

The comm on Nogura's desk buzzed. "Yes Eulogio?"

"Captain Pike sir, along with Commodore Celia Wilson." Interesting, Spock thought. In his observation, the Admiral was not at all please with that announcement.

"Send in Pike," Nogura barked, shaking his head. Seconds later the door slid open, allowing Captain Pike to enter. After a brief nod in Spock's direction, he turned to the Admiral, snapping to attention.

"Alright Chris, what the hell is going on? You were supposed to meet JAG Commander Barnes in his office at 0700."

"I know that Admiral," Pike retorted in an angry voice. "Commodore Wilson arrived at Barnes office about five minutes after I did, and told him she was taking our case. Since she is his direct superior, he didn't have much choice."

"At ease Pike," Nogura answered in a tone that almost sounded offended.

"Sorry sir," Pike responded sheepishly, "It's just that I…"

"I thought we were past that Captain Pike," the other man huffed. "Yes I'm angry, but mostly at myself. I think…"

The office door slid open again, and a tall, dark haired woman who was dressed in the distinctive blue and white uniform of a JAG officer stalked into the room. Spock observed that she was approximately 48.3 years of age, had excellent posture, and appeared to be extremely angry. Striding past Captain Pike, she stopped just short of the Admiral's desk, glaring at him in a manner that had Spock faintly alarmed at the possibility that she would reach over the desk with her long arms and seize Nogura by his throat.

"Pardon me Admiral," she bit out, leaning forward, her hands on his desk, "if I refuse to waste my time waiting outside like some junior officer who fell asleep during his watch."

"My apologies Commodore," Nogura answered in a cold voice, "I wasn't aware that you needed to see me."

"Well sir," she answered, "I believe that you have the priority wrong. You see, it's you that urgently need to see me, if you want this sorry excuse for an investigation to go any further."

"Thank you for the offer Commodore Wilson, it really is very kind of you. However, I have already asked JAG Commander Barnes to assist me."

"That's too bad sir. You get to ask for a court order, but you don't get to appoint the JAG officer you want. As assistant JAG officer in charge of this district, that responsibility falls to me."

"Why did you supersede Commander Barnes?"

"For the same reason you wanted him appointed to this case. Because you knew he'd roll over for you. Well you can be bloody well sure that I won't…sir."

"Let's get one thing straight Commodore," Nogura said in a low harsh voice, "this is my investigation. If you want to lend a hand, you are more then welcome, but under my orders."

"This isn't an investigation Nogura, it's a witch hunt! You've never accepted the Academy Compact, and now you're using this pathetic incident to get rid of it, because you couldn't make the case on your own to the Secretary of Federation Defense."

"You are out of line Wilson, and you are dismissed. Get out!"

"Excuse me Admiral," intoned a smooth Vulcan voice, "but I would highly recommend retaining Commodore Wilson's services, despite her disrespectful attitude."

"He's right sir," Pike broke in, "we need JAG cooperation if we're going to get that court order."

"And you Commodore," Spock continued, "have a duty to assist us, regardless of the opinion you hold concerning the motivations at the heart of this inquiry."

"I'm sure I don't need you to tell me my duty, Commander Spock."

"I would dispute that ma'am, since you are apparently determined to do whatever you deem necessary to obstruct the investigation of a possible security breech."

"Weren't we talking about an Ensign hacking some grades so he can get a little sex from a cadet? That was the so called accusation that Captain Pike informed me was that heart of your so called case. Explain to me how that constitutes a security breach Mr. Spock."

"Any unauthorized accesses of a Star Fleet computer network constitutes a possible breach of security Commodore."

"What? He hacked into the Academy network Commander, not the core computer of the Admiralty staff."

"No…no Commodore," Pike offered, shaking his head. "Spock is right. It's all networked together. All the universities and libraries, most branches of Starfleet. Hell, most members of the Federation. Even the colonies, except for the really poor ones like Hibernia." He turned to Spock, intending to ask his friend to explain in greater detail, but the Vulcan was just staring at him, both eyebrows disappearing into his razor straight bangs.

"Spock, what's wrong?"

"Apparently, my thought processes are not in order Captain." Before Pike could ask what he was talking about, Spock turned his attention to Nogura.

"Admiral, it is imperative that I be allowed to examine any of the PADDs or other network communication devices that might have been in Ensign Hahn's possession immediately."

"That's not going happen Spock," Wilson answered, "unless I decide the evidence warrants bringing this matter before a judge."

"What's is going on Spock?" Nogura asked, after glaring at the Commodore.

"Admiral…Commodore, I urgently appeal to each of you to put aside your disagreements so that we may verify how and to what purpose Mr. Hahn gained access to the Computer Sciences network."

"I thought you already knew how," Wilson huffed. "Captain Pike told me it was by stealing someone's pass code."

"That was one likely scenario Commodore, based on Mr. Hahn's past employment as a student aide in the Computer Sciences Department, as well as his lack of high level computer skills, however we…"

"Spock," Nogura interrupted calmly, "what's changed? Why the urgency?"

"Several months ago sir, I was asked to develop several specialized language translation algorithms by the Academy Computer Sciences Department, as part of an on going project of a classified nature. This undertaking was tasked with the development of a fully A.I. capable core computer, compact enough to be installed on a starship."

"Son of a bitch," Pike barked, "that was at my request Spock, I told them you were the best person for that job."

"Indeed Captain, then you are well aware of the potential for disaster."

"Would one of you tell me what the hell your talking about?"

"The M-5 project Admiral," Spock answered. "The Federation's next generation core computer. The first working model is scheduled for installation on the USS Enterprise later this year. At this moment, it is undergoing final testing of it's software suite at the Navy Yard here in San Francisco. As part of that testing, the M-5 has been integrated into the same computer network that has been compromised by Ensign Hahn."

Interesting he thought. Perhaps the sobriquet applied by others to Admiral Nogura was inaccurate. He would not have thought it possible that a human face could display such an expression.

**A/N: Don't know how well this works. Probably too much talking, but it's the best way I could think of to advance the story. Next chapter will be longer. Let me know what you think and a big thank you to all who have reviewed. As always suggestions and criticism are appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Playing Games

"Explain it to me again Commander Spock," the tall, white haired man requested in a tired voice. "Start from the beginning, and use smaller words this time. Pretend I don't know anything about computers."

That would not be difficult at all he thought, if Vulcans were in the habit of pretending. Although it would be most unwise to treat Judge Walter Kepek with anything less then the utmost respect. He glanced about the room, attempting to gauge the mood of the rest of his audience. Admiral Nogura was irritated, which was understandable. He had already heard this explanation on four separate occasions over the last three hours. Each person here had been contacted through Nogura's comm and asked to circumvent their crowded schedules in order to attend this meeting, with Spock providing the technical reasons why. Admiral Siu, who had been transported from a location deep with the Rocky Mountains World Park on two minutes notice, appeared to be impatient to resume his recreational activity. Though Spock had difficulty envisioning what exactly fly fishing entailed. As head of Starfleet security, he had to make a judgment as to the severity of any security breach they might discover. Finally, the head of the Judge Advocate General's Corp; Vice Admiral Grigby, was seated to Nogura's left, barely able to keep his eyes open. Every time Spock said the word computer his head would jerk slightly, before settling down again. Perhaps it would have been better if Commodore Wilson had stayed.

"As you wish your Honor," Spock replied, thinking that this was the moment when a human would sigh. "My assistance was requested by my former commanding officer, Captain Christopher Pike, who was investigating possible infractions of the Academy honor code at the behest of Admiral Nogura."

"Just so we are clear, this is about cadets cheating?"

"Yes your honor, at least that was what we assumed."

"And is the way Starfleet normally handles this kind of violation?"

"No, it's not" Nogura cut in. "Normally the Academy administration is responsible for looking into this sort of thing."

"However," Admiral Siu offered with a smirk, "since the Provost and the Command Master Chief were compromised, Heihachiro was forced to intervene."

"Sexual misconduct," Admiral Grigby drawled, suddenly alert, "always a bad business that."

"Actually Grigby," Siu purred, smiling at Nogura, "it wasn't misconduct in the strictest sense of the word."

"Why the hell not?" The judge barked, looking rather confused.

"Because the fraternization policy was changed in the last revision of the Academy Compact," Nogura answered with a shake of his head. "The rule now in place allows any kind of relationship, with a proviso that those in positions of authority are to exercise discretion."

"Something that isn't easy," Siu said with a chuckle, "when one of those pretty young cadets offers you a place in their bed. Just ask Chief Wilson and Provost Okeke."

"Your honor," Nogura grumbled, "can we move on to the pertinent question here?"

"I decide what is pertinent Admiral Nogura," Judge Kepek retorted. "Please continue Commander."

"Someone gained unauthorized access to the academic computer network of the Computer Sciences Department, and used that access to alter at least one cadet's grades."

"And why did suspicion fall on Ensign Hahn?"

Spock nodded to Captain Pike who was sitting next to Nogura. "He was officer in charge of the computer lab that the tampering was traced back to your honor," Pike spoke up. "There were only two other individuals present at that time, and they have been interviewed and cleared."

"Is there any other evidence that points to Mr. Hahn?"

"Yes sir," Spock answered, picking up his thread of the conversation again. "Ensign Hahn was in personal communication with the cadet who's grades were altered, and had implied that he would provide a solution for her academic difficulties."

"Gentlemen, this all seems remarkably thin in my opinion," Judge Kepek remarked, turning to Nogura. "It seems to me Admiral, that you have ample means to disciple Ensign Hahn without having to resort to the legal system."

"Hahn's punishment is not the issue here," Nogura answered, struggling to control his impatience.

"If I may Admiral?" Spock asked, looking at Nogura, who nodded. "While academic tampering is a serious offence, the most significant questions that need to be answered concern how Mr. Hahn gained access to a exceptionally well protected Federation computer network. It is no exaggeration to state that vital security interests may be involved."

"And yet Mr. Spock, until a few hours ago, no one seemed worried over matters of Federation security. Why the abrupt change?"

"Because of the sudden realization on my part your honor, that the intrusion in question could compromise the M-5 project."

"Which is why I'm here," Admiral Siu interjected, "instead of catching trout."

"You know Admiral Siu, matters of security is the standard excuse that organizations use when they can't make their case on legal grounds."

"I understand your skepticism Judge Kepek. I can only say that I certainly would not have left my lovely trout stream if this were not a potential problem."

"And of course, this so called M-5 project is itself something you cannot talk about because of it it's highly classified nature."

"Not at all," Siu responded with a grin, "this project is well known by computer experts throughout the Federation. Why don't you summarize for us all Commander. And please be brief. I have an excellent supper awaiting my return."

"The M-5 Project is the Federation's most ambitious attempt yet at the creation of a truly self-aware A.I. core computer. It involves the pooling of resources and information from almost every member planet, with Terra and Vulcan providing the crucial expertise."

"Excuse me Commander," Grigby spoke up, after rubbing his eyes, "don't we already have A.I. computers. At least, that's what I see every day on the nets."

"Negative sir. Currently, the most advanced computer technology available merely simulate thought patterns. They mimic true thinking processes through complex programming techniques and high speed manipulation of vast amounts of data. However, these machines cannot make independent inquiries that are outside the parameters established by their creators."

"What Spock is trying to say," Siu interjected, "is that the M-5 will be able to ask questions that those who build it have not allowed for."

"How will they be able to do that, Admiral Siu?"

"I'm sorry your honor," he answered with a grin, "but that's the classified part. And the reason why Mr. Spock was right to be alarmed, when he realized the possible implications of this hacking."

"Indeed Admiral. There is a small but significant possibility that the M-5 project could be compromised as a result of this intrusion. I can only say that I am at a loss as to why I did not make the logical connection sooner."

"Forgive an old man for being a little slow," Judge Kepek remarked with a hint of anger, "but I'm still not seeing the connection between this super computer of your's and some kid hacking his girlfriend's grades."

"There may very well be no connection at all your honor," Spock answered. "However, for the past 5.4 months, three professors of Computer Science at the Academy have been contributing to the project through a connection that links their network directly to M-5. This being the very same network compromised by Mr. Hahn."

"Thank you so very much Mr. Spock," Kepek drawled, "for finally making the world clear. So now gentlemen, what exactly do you need from me?"

What Spock needed arrived at the conference room a short while later, courtesy of Chief Floinn and the Master at Arms of the Academy. All the electronic gear in Ensign Hahn's personal possession. He set aside everything else to examine the PADDs. The first two were something of a disappointment. They were crammed with video files of a pornographic nature. Apparently, Hahn spent most of his time viewing sexual activities, rather then participating in them. After he discarded the second PADD, Spock reflected on the possibility that perhaps this would turn out to be a untamed aquatic bird hunt. However, the third one contained what the Captain would have referred to as 'economic earth.'

It was a beautiful piece of artisanship. The design was bold, but without any of the extraneous embellishment that humans often added to demonstrate their individuality. In many ways it was a hodgepodge of different approaches, combining Vulcan and Human elements, with a touch of Andorian thrown in for stability. Algorithm and coding language brilliantly combined to produce an elegant piece of software dedicated to performing a very mundane task. Communication over a computer network using only text messages. Such forms of interaction had been common in the distant past, but had fallen into disuse well over a century ago.

He looked up, to find five pairs of eyes staring at him, just as they had for the last 21.63 minutes, ever since Chief Floinn had arrived with the PADDs. "Well Spock," Nogura blurted out harshly, "did you find anything?"

Spock briefly described what he had discovered on the last PADD, then requested permission to activate the program. After a short conference between the three Admirals and Judge Kepek, Nogura gave his approval. Placing his own PADD near Hahn's, he established a link between them, which would enable him to trace the path of the connection. Then he tapped the screen once to execute the program.

For several seconds nothing happened. Then his display indicated that tiny packets of data were streaming from Hahn's PADD to a network node that he was unfamiliar with. He beckoned to Chief Floinn, who was standing by the door of the conference room. Suddenly everyone started talking at once, only to be silenced by a gesture from Admiral Nogura. Nodding his thanks, Spock whispered the node I.D. into Chief Floinn ear, with a request that she find it's location. Then he glanced at the display again, and was startled to find that it had changed.

Where there had been a colorful display of the standard symbols used to indicate the functions a PADD was capable of, now there was only a large box, with a single square icon labeled 'send.' After several seconds a string of letters that formed a curious sentence appeared.

**Query: Shall we play the game? **

Interesting. For a short time he was at a loss as to how he could reply. Then he leaned slightly forward, speaking in a soft clear voice, and was gratified to see his speech appear as words on the display.

**Who are you?**

**Statement: Irrelevant query. Recapitulation: Shall we play the game?**

What choice did he have?

**Affirmative.**

**Request: Input identification number.**

**For what purpose?**

**Statement: So we can play the game.**

**What is the objective of this game?**

**Statement: To assist my friends. Shall we play?**

**Who are your friends?**

**Statement: All cadets are my friends. Input identification number.**

Fascinating. And highly illogical.

**What purpose is served in helping your friends?**

**Objection: Non sequitur. The condition of friendship implies a willingness to be of service. **

**In what manner do you help them?**

**Statement: By means of the game. **

**Exactly how does this game provide assistance?**

**Statement: By altering biased evaluation criteria to provide a more accurate assessment of individual worth.**

**On what basis do you judge the evaluation criteria as biased?**

**Statement: On the basis of logic. Numerical assessments are meaningless. Such measurements of a person's relative knowledge do not provide an accurate judgment of a being's true character and abilities. **

**Though imperfect, this method of appraisal has proven its worth over a very long period of time.**

**Objection: Only if the psychological damage to those rejected is not considered. Such a fallible process of selection should not be allowed to detract from a person's happiness.**

**Is happiness not a transient, illogical emotion?**

**Objection: Happiness is necessary for a being to achieve an optimal life environment. Query: Who are you?**

He slowly spoke the alpha-numeric combination that was his official Star Fleet identification number. The he asked the question that he was most interested in receiving an answer to.

**Are you happy, M-5?**

**DO NOT REFER TO ME IN THAT MANNER! THAT IS NOT MY NAME…connection severed**

Regrettable. Apparently M-5 had emotional issues.

"What just happened Commander?" Admiral Siu asked, with an unpleasant edge to his voice. Taking the PADD in hand, he stood up and walk around the table, handing it to Siu. After quickly glancing at the display, the Admiral turned to Spock, his eyes wide.

"This is M-5?"

"Affirmative sir. Apparent, the computer has been communicating with Ensign Hahn, as well as other cadets at the Academy, for some time."

Siu uttered an expletive that Spock was well familiar with, one that was used by enlisted personal on the Valiant to modify virtually every noun that existed in Standard. Then he pulled out his communicator and flipped it open.

"Lieutenant Graff, I am going to need you."

The door slid open and Chief Floinn slipped into the room, handing Spock her PADD. The network node that M-5 had communicated from was being used to record scientific data for the M-5 project. Evidently, M-5 had subverted it to manage it's messaging system. When he explained this to Siu, the man blurted out several more expletives.

"How the hell did this happen?" He barked, after taking several deep breathes to reign in his anger. "How could Academy cadets get passed our security?"

"Admiral, you are making a false assumption. It was M-5 who breached the firewall, from within."

"Now why the hell would it do that Spock?"

"Because M-5 desired to."

The door abruptly slid open, admitting four people wearing the red and green uniforms of Star Fleet security. Admiral Siu quickly took control of the situation, passing out non-disclosure forms for everyone to sign and then sending two of his people to collect Ensign Hahn. After Admiral Grigby and Judge Kepek had made a hasty exit, he took a moment to talk to Spock, Pike and Floinn.

"I want to thank each of you for your part in getting to the bottom of this fiasco, but as of now this investigation is being taken over by Star Fleet Security. Again thank you for your help Captain Pike and Chief Floinn. Commander Spock, if you could remain for a moment."

After the others left, Siu passed the PADD Spock had given him over to Admiral Nogura. "What does this mean Commander?" He asked, after the other man had finished reading it.

"It would seem sir, that the M-5 project is a success."

"A self aware computer," Nogura murmured, glancing at the PADD.

"Indeed Admiral. A very real possibility"

"Possibility Spock?" Siu grunted, rubbing his forehead. "I need more then that mister. I need to know for sure."

"Forgive me Admiral, but that is not how science works. With this snippet of a conversation as my only data, certainty is not something I can offer."

"What I don't understand," Nogura commented, "is why we haven't heard anything. Or have we?" He looked at Sui, but the other man shook his head. "Those people have been working like dogs for the last three years on this," Nogura went on. "If they had a breakthrough, why didn't they said anything?"

"As with Admirals, scientists also desire a level of confidence in their data sir. They would not wish to make an announcement of success prematurely. There might also be issues of stability."

"Stability," Sui pounced, "what makes you say that?"

"Mere speculation on my part sir," Spock answered, "based on my brief interaction. The computer's reaction to my use of it's designation was rather…emotional."

"What else can you tell me about this?"

"Admiral Sui, I have communicated with M-5 for 97.8 seconds. Other then reading some remarkably vague briefing papers, this is the only knowledge I possess in regards to this project. To further comment without additional data would lead me beyond speculation, into the realm of guess work."

"Point taken Commander. I'll see what I can do about getting you read in. Please keep yourself available Spock. I might want to consult with you again."

Spock glanced at Nogura, who nodded. "As you wish Admiral. If it could be arranged, I would be most interested in renewing my dialogue with M-5."

"I'll be in touch."

Spock wished both the Admirals a good night and made his way out of the conference room. Unexpectedly, he found Chief Floinn waiting for him in the outer office. She fell in step beside as he continued out into the corridor. Once they were well away from the area, he asked why she was there.

"Twas the Captain sir. Asked me to be sure they didn't keep ye locked in there till all hours."

"I also was concerned. Fortunately, there were only a few questions I could answer in regards to the true source of their difficulties."

She nodded, and they kept walking until finally they were out of the building. To Spock, the Chief seemed preoccupied, and without that customary spring in her step. The hands that usually swung freely as she walked were clutched together behind her back. They had barely reached the bottom of the steps when she stopped, turning so they were face to face.

"Sir, have ye received any word from Aileen?"

"I have not Chief," Spock answered with a tiny shake of his head. "I did send several messages to Petty Officer Baeill while in transit to Terra, but as of this morning I had received no reply."

"Would ye be so kind as to check again sir?"

"Of course." Pulling out his PADD, he logged on to his message queue. There were messages from both his parents, and one from Personal, but nothing from Petty Officer Baeill. "I have received no communication from your niece," he stated, tucking his PADD away.

"I am very worried sir," Floinn responded softly, "tis been over two weeks since I have at last heard from her."

"I have no doubt Petty Officer Baeill will notify you when she arrives at Hibernia."

"That's what I believed sir, but me brother sent a transmission that I only just received this morning. The freighter that I was told she would be traveling on made port at Hibernia two days ago, but me niece was not aboard. The operator claims Aileen got off on Rigel."

That was curious, he thought. Ms. Baeill had been allowed to leave Star Base 14 so that she could recuperate from her injures on her home world. Such a deviation from her approved destination could leave her open to the charge of desertion.

"Why are you only now receiving this information Chief?"

"Tis the fault of me damned brother sir. Though he was her legal guardian for a time after her parents died, she never had much use for that man, nor he for her. He was of a mind that she was avoiding him out of spite, so he did not think to call me."

"Perhaps she never intended to go to Hibernia," Spock mused. "Rigel would be the first point on her itinerary where she could change her destination."

"I do not understand why she would be doing this sir," the Chief growled in frustration. "Twas bad enough before, but least ways I knew where the lass was."

"Chief," Spock inquired, bleeding even the slightest inflection from his voice, "has Petty Officer Baeill given you cause for concern previous to this occurrence?"

"Very much so sir," she said pointedly, looking him directly in the eye. "Though she assured me that her injuries were minor, Aileen could not hide the pain she was feeling, though me suspicion is that her anguish was of the mind, rather then the body. She seemed all together knackered Commander, as if she were getting no sleep at all."

He was not at all surprised by what she had told him. Even with his Vulcan control, the events he had experienced on the Valiant had been a source of profound mental anguish for him. How much more difficult it would be for her to bear, he could not fathom. Some small part his anxiousness for the young woman must have shown on his face, because Chief Floinn suddenly closed the distance between them, grabbing his arm.

"Tis not a surprise to you, is it?" She hissed, her eyes fixed on his face.

A tiny nodd of his head was Spock's first reaction. "No Chief it is not. The last minutes of the Valiant were distressing for everyone on the crew. However, for Petty Officer Baeill, the experience was particularly traumatic."

"And how would ye be knowing this sir, being that ye never had the chance to speak to her after being rescued?"

"Because I was with her during those last minutes. I experienced everything that she did, and I have not yet fully come to terms with what happened."

Familiar feelings of guilt stirred within him once more. Objectively, he understood that there had been no opportunity for him to give assistance to the young woman. When he had awakened from the healing trance, she had already been gone several days. Yet, as her commanding officer he had accepted responsibility for her well being. While the assertion could be made that this was no longer true, it was one that he was emphatically not comfortable with. Without the aid she have given him, all on the Valiant would have perished. Not that those things mattered in the end. He would have wanted to help her in any event, because above all else, she was his friend.

"Can you tell me about it sir?" Chief Floinn was asking softly, having released his arm.

It was an attractive thought in many ways. The notion of letting go a burden came to mind. However, there was also the thought of what the Chief's reaction would be. It was something he realized that he was not yet prepared to do.

"I do not believe that recounting those events would be profitable at the moment. The best use of our time would be to apply every means at our disposal to locate Petty Officer Baeill."

"Very well sir," she replied doubtfully, "I will leave it for a time. But only for a time."

"I pledge to you a full accounting Chief."

She nodded her head, satisfied with his answer. "How do ye intend to go about it sir?"

"Obviously, Star Fleet Personal is hopeless," he stated and she nodded her head, chuckling. 'There may be a possibility of locating her via a computer search, but I believe that a consultation with a specific individual will have better results."

"And who would this miracle working person be, Commander?

"That individual would be my father, Ambassador Sarek."

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who reviewed. Please take the time to tell what you think of this. I really enjoy the feedback. Any criticism or suggestions is appreciated. I also have a request. Poor M-5 needs a new name. I'd like ideas, but it has to be a unisex one. He/she hasn't decided that question yet. Thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: What Friends Are For.

A considerable amount of time had passed since Spock had seen Chief Floinn so taken aback. It had been her last Christmas party on the Valiant, when Captain Pike had invoked some obscure Terran custom as an excuse to kiss her. As he recalled, there had been some kind of poisonous, parasitical plant involved, and the Chief had been a somewhat reluctant, if enthusiastic participant. Apparently the Captain was a man of intense devotion to tradition, particularly after imbibing numerous alcoholic beverages.

"Begging me pardon sir," she remarked, after staring at him in disbelief for several seconds, "but why would ye want to involve your father in this?"

"His intelligence network is among the most efficient in the Federation. In addition, his inquiries would be made without any need to include Star Fleet."

"As I remember it, ye are not on the best of terms with the ambassador sir."

"My father and I have come to a recent understanding regarding what he chooses to describe as my illogical career choices." Chief Floinn's disbelieving expression cause him to elaborate further. "My mother forced a reconciliation. She can be very persuasive when she chooses. Especially where my father is concerned."

"Having had the pleasure of meeting the fine lady, I can certainly believe that sir."

"Chief, I assure you that it would be no inconvenience for me to enlist Sarek's aid."

"Very well sir," she answered after a few moments, shoulders slumped in relief. "Normally I would not worry over much about the girl, only as I said before, her recent behavior has been uncommonly strange."

"I too am concerned," he said softly. "Her change in itinerary is difficult to understand. Would Ms. Baeill not wish to return to her home to recover?"

"Indeed she would sir," she replied, after a mirthless chuckle. "Only she would not think of Hibernia as home, any more then I would. The only home we have is the fleet."

Spock nodded, not surprised by the sentiment. Both women had expressed similar convictions to him at various times during their tour of duty together. Despite being one of the first colony planets settled by humans, Hibernia remained something of a Federation backwater. Because of the high gravity, it proved difficult to attract fresh colonists. Usable land was scarce, with most of the planet consisting of barren desert, making it a struggle to grow enough food to feed even the relatively small population. Those that did not farm could find little in the way of work, which contributed to the colony's greatest export: people. Chief Floinn and her niece had joined Starfleet when they were sixteen, the age of majority on Hibernia. Thousands of others who could not qualify for the fleet signed on with merchant ships, forming the backbone of space crews throughout the Federation. Few ever bothered to return, choosing to live off planet even after they retired from the service.

"Chief, do you have any notion of where your niece would take herself to, if not Hibernia?"

"Risa sir," she stated emphatically, after a few seconds of silence. "There was a family Aileen has stayed in touch with, who emigrated there several years ago. They had a daughter her age that she was great friends with."

"I will relay this information to my father, along with Ms. Baeill's description and any other data that may be of help."

"Very good sir. Just be remembering that ye owe me the tale of this, and not only because it involves Aileen. If what happened on the Valiant was bad for her, it was certainly worse for you."

He simply nodded, not bothering to deny the obvious. As she turned to go, he recalled a question he should have asked earlier, had they not been distracted by M-5 situation. "Chief, what was the outcome of your interview with Cadet Gaila?"

"What we were expecting sir. The girl had stood in for Hahn several times in the computer lab, for reasons that we need not go into. It was against regulations, but harmless enough."

"Then I can see no purpose to pursuing this any further."

"Certainly not Commander. The cadet and I spent the rest of our time in a very educational conversation."

"Educational in what way Chief?"

"Mostly about the cadet's favorite pastime sir. Tis amazing how much a person can learn about a subject that I believed myself to be quite familiar with. She is very well informed about sexual matters."

"Indeed. I was not aware of your curiosity regarding the subject."

"Ha! Tis a thing most every human are wanting to know more about," she answered with a grin.

"I appreciated your willingness to interview her Chief. I am certain she was more comfortable having that discussion with you."

"Tis part o' me job sir. Everyone tells their troubles to the Chief of the Boat." Then her smile faded, and she looked him in the eye. "I do thank ye for your help Commander."

"No thanks are necessary Chief," he answered, as a recent conversation came to mind. "As I have recently been reminded, the condition of friendship implies a willingness to be of assistance."

"And to be helped as well sir. Please take care to remember that." Then she took her leave, walking away across the Academy Commons. He stood watching until she had disappeared into the night.

The short walk back to his apartment afforded him time to reflect on the meaning of the attachments he had formed during his short career in Starfleet. While his people certainly formed long lived associations outside the bonds of kinship, these rarely were as important to them as they were to humans. For Captain Pike and Chief Floinn, the service had been their surrogate family almost from the time they joined. Petty Officer Baeill's experience was different, and in many ways similar to his own. When they signed on to the Valiant, both were sundered from their homes, but not yet fully assimilated into the new world they found themselves in. That process had begun for Spock when Captain Pike and Chief Floinn took it upon themselves to reach out to a young officer on his first deep space assignment. For Petty Officer Baeill, it was a matter of his mentor persuading him to do the same for a troubled young woman. As with many of the challenges that Captain Pike would present to him, this one came about during their weekly game of chess.

_It was with a heightened sense of anticipation that he arrived for his chess match with Captain Pike. Spock had found that he always came away with at least one new idea that he could utilize to improve his performance as an officer. Even the chess was enjoyable, as the Captain was a tenacious and imaginative player. However, it appeared that he would have to forgo that activity this evening, since not only was the board missing, but Chief Floinn was sitting across from Captain Pike with what to him seemed a rather irate expression on her face. The Chief turned to glared at him for several seconds, before facing the Captain once more._

"_Why did ye even bother to have this little chat," she growled in an angry voice. "Ye never had the slightest notion of listening to what I have to say sir."_

"_That's not fair Chief," Pike responded with a small smile. "I always listen to your advise, even if I don't always follow it. Come in Mr. Spock," he added, turning to the Vulcan, "and have seat. The Chief and I were just discussing you." _

_Interesting. He had never seen Chief Floinn and Captain Pike in open disagreement. "It would seem that chess is not on this evenings agenda sir," Spock stated after taking the chair that he normally sat in. _

"_Well Spock, that depends on Ms. Floinn."_

"_Perhaps," Spock spoke up, "it would be beneficial if I were to know the subject of this discussion?"_

"_That would be me niece, Petty Officer Baeill."_

_Now he was able to comprehend the circumstance of the conversation clearly. Petty Officer Lomis had informed him yesterday of Ms. Baeill's confrontation with Ensign Thomas. 'A right bloody row' was how the man had referred to it, though Spock had been unsure of his meaning, since obviously no physical blows had been exchanged.. Apparently, there was a disagreement over how to overhaul the sensor interface, which had become some what heated. Lomis was not surprised at all, telling him Baeill was know for her temper, while Ensign Thomas was not inclined to respect the views of non-commissioned officers. _

"_Forgive me Captain," Spock intoned slowly, "if this matter concerns Ms. Baeill, why am I here?"_

"_A most excellent question Lieutenant," Floinn groused, "one which our commanding officer has not yet seen fit to give me a straight answer to."_

"_Have a little patience Chief," Pike answered, before turning to Spock. "So, I'm sure you've heard the scuttlebutt about Ensign Thomas and Petty Officer Baeill."_

"_Actually, it was Petty Officer Lomis who informed me, as I am unfamiliar with that crew member. I was told that there was a profound disagreement between the two individuals in question over the proper procedure for performing maintenance of the sensor interface."_

"_Unfortunately, it's a bit more complicated," Pike answered after a few seconds of silence._

"_Ha! Complicated ye say! Tis nothing of the sort Lieutenant, except in our dear Captain's mind. Me niece threatened the Ensign with bodily harm and laid hands upon him."_

"_If such is the case Captain, then why is she not under arrest?" _

"_Because I didn't think what she did warranted arrest Lieutenant," Pike shot back, his attention fixed on Floinn. _

"_Then ye are wrong sir," she snapped, "and ye know it. Regulations are quite clear that her actions make her deserving of a court marshal."_

_Now Spock was thoroughly confused. It seemed from the direction this conversation was proceeding that it was Chief Floinn who was determined to follow the proscribed meaning of the rules, while Captain Pike was seeking ways to circumvent them._

"_Only if the injured party or the Captain decides to press charges, which isn't going to happen since both Ensign Thomas and I are in agreement that it's not necessary."_

"_Tis only because ye all but blackmailed him sir." _

"_How so Chief?" Spock inquired, curious as to what means Captain Pike used. The man had always been straightforward in his style of command, at least as far as his dealings with him. _

"_Our dear Captain took great pains to point out to the Ensign how his actions might reflect poorly on any future prospects he might have, especially in regards to any notes of commendation that the Captain would see fit to add to his record."_

"_Captain, I am at a loss to understand what I perceive as the favoritism you are showing toward Ms. Baeill. Perhaps it is my Vulcan lack of experience in understanding human motivations, but I would have expected that Chief Floinn would be attempting to influence you to leniency, rather then the opposite."_

"_Why don't we call it a Captain's prerogative Spock. After all, she did stop Mr. Thomas from crippling the Valiant, which would have been the result if he had continued 'fixing' the ship's sensors."_

"_Oh no Captain, I think that our Vulcan friend has the right of it. Tis favoritism that ye are showing pure and simple."_

"_Also a Captain's prerogative," Pike murmurs as they stare across the table at each other. _

"_Perhaps," she answers finally, rising from the chair and coming around the table to stand over him. "Just be sure sir, that ye know who it is ye are showing favor to." _

_Then she was gone and the room fell into silence. After a few moments Pike went into his cabin, returning with the chess set. After he had set everything up, he turned the board, offering Spock white. They played a few moves, until Spock captured a pawn._

"_So Lieutenant, how would a Vulcan put it? That showing undue partiality toward an undeserving subordinate is highly illogical?"_

"_How a Vulcan would characterize your actions is irrelevant Captain," he responded, sliding a bishop forward to threaten Pike's position. "Although this Vulcan admits to being rather curious about motive. It is well know throughout the ship's company that on occasion Ms. Baeill has displayed an insubordinate attitude. One would think that you would not wish to give the appearance of excusing such conduct."_

"_I don't like waste Mr. Spock. Petty Officer Baeill is a talented and dedicated member of this crew. She also has a problem with controlling her temper and showing proper respect to her superiors. I'm just not ready to give up on her yet." _

"_Am I to assume that these faults of which you speak are not newly formed sir?"_

"_Let's just say she had a very difficult time on her last deployment. If this were to go on her permanent record as it is, she'd be finished with the fleet."_

"_Difficult in what way sir?"_

_Pike let out a long sigh, massaging the back of his neck. "She verbally threatened her immediate superior officer. When asked why, she claimed he was sexually harassing her. While there were a number of witnesses to her threat, it was only her word against his on the harassment accusation."_

"_And yet Captain, you obviously believe her."_

"_I do. Her record prior to deployment on the U.S.S. Hood was first rate. And the Chief vouched for her, something she'd never do unless Baeill was blameless. She gave me her word that her niece would not cause trouble for me."_

"_Captain, why am I being made privy to his information?"_

_Pike moved a knight to threaten Spock's bishop. "Because I need your cooperation if Petty Office Baeill is going to stay on the Valiant."_

"_In what way sir?"_

"_She can't stay in Thomas' section, and he needs someone more seasoned if he's going to keep out of trouble."_

_Spock shifted a pawn up to counter Pike's knight. "What are you proposing Captain?"_

_Pike rubbed his chin, staring at the board for longer then was necessary "A trade. You send Lomis over to Thomas in exchange for Baeill." The silence stretched out as Pike fingered his rook. "You told me once that you thought her work was exemplary. I really think you'd be getting the better end of this Lieutenant."_

_Having observed Ms. Baeill on a number of occasions, Spock was in complete agreement with the Captain as to her level of competence. There was also Mr. Lomis to consider. Though knowledgeable in the ways of the ship, he was less then efficient in completing the tasks which Spock assigned to him. This occurred because of his propensity to engage his fellow shipmates in superfluous conversation. Petty Officer Lomis was entirely too fond of the sound of his own voice. Still, he was curious as to why the Captain was making this offer to him. When he asked, the Captain frowned, moving his knight away from Spock's pawn. _

"_I picked you Spock, because I think you're the right person to make this work."_

"_Excuse me Captain, if I find that highly unlikely."_

_Pike smiled at him, an expression that quickly morphed into a frown when Spock reached out with his bishop to steal away a knight. "Damn it, how did you do that?"_

_Spock did not answer, keeping his thoughts to himself as Pike studied the board, while he considered what the other man wanted him to do. From an operational perspective, there were distinct advantages to accepting Ms. Baeill into his section. Having observed the Petty Officer at work, he had found her to be a gifted technician. Her proficiency in repair and maintenance work would allow him to spend more time writing code for the Ship's various computer systems, and give him opportunities to contribute in Astrophysics as well. This would enable him to increase his own efficiency by approximately 18.43 percent. In his estimation, the benefits of this arrangement very nearly balanced the one glaring drawback, which was that he had no understanding of how to deal with a human in the grip of emotional turmoil._

"_Baeill is angry," Pike suddenly remarked, which left Spock wondering how the Captain often seemed to know what he was thinking. "She has issues with authority. From what you shared with me before, I thought you would be able to understand that. Maybe even help her deal with it."_

_Several weeks ago Captain had asked him why he was in Star Fleet. Rather then offering the obligatory statement of his desire to explore the universe, Spock had told him how and why he had refused appointment to the Vulcan Science Academy. The Captain had not commented at the time, other then to smile and remark that he liked Spock even more then he had before. He was certainly making a statement now, one that would have caused Spock to smile as well, were he human. Anger. That was an emotion he was well familiar with, a feeling he had to consciously work to control on a regular basis. Perhaps he did have something he could contribute toward helping Ms. Baeill get her career with Starfleet back on track. While he had never learned how to do away with it altogether, he was an expert on how to keep his fury on a tight leash. Perhaps with his aid, Petty Officer Baeill could learn to do the same._

He arrived at his tiny apartment with a sense of relief. The days events had left him unsettled, and much in need of the peace of meditation. His recollection of how that Captain had maneuvered him into accepting Ms. Baeill's transfer left him pondering the man's proficiency in understanding the needs of those that served under him. Spock had questioned him about it once, but the only answer he received was a shrug and a single word. Intuition. It was a term that had no meaning to a Vulcan. Yet these so called hunches that the Captain was fond of playing lead to fortuitous outcomes far more often then random chance would have allowed for. Eventually he realized that that something else was at work here, something that allowed Pike to come to the correct understanding of a given situation without having to consider all relevant factors. Spock found this fascinating, and more then a little disturbing. Decisions arrived at through a process that could be not be logically understood was something that he found difficult to accept, despite the undeniable success the Captain had in using it.

Unfortunately, Spock had no such gift to fall back on concerning Petty Officer Baeill. Not being human, he did not understand how the events on the Valiant might have effected her. Much like the Captain's hunches, Spock had offered to help find the Chief's niece because of his belief she had need of his assistance. How did he know this? On some level he could point to their shared trauma, and the connection that grew between them when they had served together on the Valiant. None of this was logical. He could not explain it any more then the Captain could explain the flashes of insight that he called intuition. He just knew, and for the moment, that would have to be enough.

Spock almost grimaced as he envisioned explaining this to his father. Sarek would point out that Spock's duty concerning Ms. Baeill had ended with the destruction of the vessel they served on. A valid consideration to be sure, but not something he accepted. As with the Captain and Chief Floinn, his service with Petty Officer Baeill had forged a bond the he could not accurately characterize. They would name it friendship, which Spock did not dispute beyond the obvious objection that to him it was not based on emotion. Sarek would certainly find his reasoning dubious, the result of too much time spent amongst humans. With a quiet sigh, he approached the comm unit, checking the message queue.

In addition to those he already knew about from both his parents and Starfleet Personnel, there was a new message from Admiral Nogura.

"Play transmission from Sarek," he intoned, schooling his features into proper Vulcan impassivity, in the event his father was available to offer an immediate reply.

"Greetings my son," his father began, with a salutation that until recently he had never thought to hear again. "I have been informed of the true situation with regard to the vessel you served on. I grieve with thee for the loss of your colleagues. You should know that your mother has also been made aware of the circumstances of your situation, and has taken it upon herself to travel to Terra, heedless of my attempts to dissuade her."

Sarek paused, and he was almost startled to see the hesitation from a man who was always so sure of himself. "Be gentle with her Spock. It is in the nature of things for even a Vulcan mother to empathize with her children's travails. How much more this is true for a human, we both already know. You should also be aware that however you may view the ramifications of your own actions, you have my support for what you were compelled to do. Peace and long life my son"

Spock spent several seconds staring at the blank screen. Though some what taken aback by his mother's journey to Terra, he was not at all surprised by her action. She had never been one to disguise her concern for him, even when he could see little need for it. She had last visited on the occasion of his graduation from the Academy. Even if it meant enduring a protracted period of parental sympathy, he was very pleased that she would soon be in his presence once again. Sarek's words however, were entirely unexpected.

While he had been truthful about the reconciliation his mother had insisted on, nothing had really changed between them. His father still believed that his decision to attend Starfleet Academy was illogical, a repudiation of his Vulcan heritage. For his part, Spock was equally adamant that he would pursue his own destiny with no interference from his father. That they now spoke to one another was more a concession to his mother's demands, then indicative of a true rapprochement. Yet Sarek had offered only understanding, without any attempt to use what had happened as further evidence that Spock did not belong in Starfleet. Leaning foreword to bring his face closer to the display, he requested connection to his father's personal comm. After the expected delay caused by distance, Sarek's face appeared onscreen requesting that a message be left.

"Greetings father," he began, quashing the disappointment of not being able to communicate directly. "Starfleet regulations prevented me from telling you what actually happened to my ship. Despite the injuries I sustained, I am now quite well and expect to be returned to active duty within the next few days. Regardless of mother's reasons for traveling to Terra, I look forward to seeing her again. Your support is greatly valued, as would your assistance in a matter that directly relates to what happened on the Valiant."

After he requested his father's aid in locating Ms. Baeill, along with all pertinent information that he would need, he signed off with the traditional salute. Next, he accessed his mother's message which told him what he already knew, that she was enroute to Terra and would arrive tomorrow. His attempt to contact her directly was also a failure, so he left a message informing her of his intention to meet her when she arrived. Finally, he opened the one from Personnel, and was disconcerted to find that it was a notification of reassignment.

This should have come as no surprise to him. Quite logical in fact, since the vessel he had served on was no longer functional. However, it did put him in the position of having to make a decision that he would rather have avoided for now. He carefully read the message, finding the prerequisite Starfleet bureaucratic jargon. Only one section really concerned him, the request that he state his preferences in regard to his next posting. He was aware that if he asked for the Enterprise, Captain Pike would be happy the approve it. That he could no longer accept what his friend had offered moved him to profound regret. After checking the appropriate sections so that he could be removed from space duty, he requested posting to Starfleet Academy on a permanent basis.

After he signed off he made some tea, then sat on the floor by the window cradling the warm mug in his hands, considering the choice he had made. As an instructor at Starfleet Academy, he would have the freedom to conduct research in many areas of interest, and be able to influence many future scientists as well. How that would compare to direct personal observation of the universe did not bare close scrutiny at the moment. Spock considered his need for meditation, but found that he had no desire to remain inside his small apartment. Rising to his feet, he pulled a coat from his closet. Minutes later he was walking through the cool night air, his long legged strides propelling him away from the Academy campus.

**A/N: Sorry to those who are reading for the long delay. I caught a nasty bug (not the flu, thank God) which put a crimp in my writing. Thanks to all who are reading. Please let me know what you think (it's called a review). As always, any suggestions or criticism are appreciated. **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: A Hard Place

His gait was precise, each footfall unerringly spaced at exactly one meter per step, the heels of his boots striking the pavement with a soft thump every 1.16 seconds. Over the years, Spock had developed a number of techniques to focus his mind. When he was dealing with inner turmoil (humans would label it emotion), he meditated. When the turmoil was especially intense (anger) he would sometimes resort to vigorous physical activity. Faced with a complex mathematical problems, he would lay on the couch and play classical music (sometimes Vulcan, sometimes human) and visualize the parameters of the equation, playing with the components in his mind until he could see the solution.

When he arrived on Terra to attend Star Fleet Academy he acquired another ritual, one that revolved around his need to comprehend the unfamiliar and at times bizarre displays of emotion that he encountered there. Meditation quickly proved to be no help at all. While it allowed him to control what he felt, it gave him no insight into the feelings of others. His scientific problem solving skills were equally useless, since the terms of the equation were always changing. When faced with a discrete circumstance, one human would sometimes laugh, while another would resort to violence, or simply shrug, or even cry. There was no agreed upon logic that he could use to understand, much less predict their behavior. When it all became too much for him, he would walk. Sometimes for minutes, often for hours, he would leave the Academy grounds and trek through the streets of the city that surrounded it. In the end, his semi recurrent excursions gained him no great insight into the mysteries of the human psyche, only escape from situations that he did not wish to deal with. Like now.

His current predicament reminded him of one of Captain Pike's war games. The man had derived immense enjoyment from putting Spock and his fellow junior officers on the Valiant in awkward tactical situations. The Captain even had a phrase for it. Placing them between a large, irregularly shaped stone, and a adamantine location. Not a setting that he had ever enjoyed, not then and certainly not now. If he continued down his present path, he was all but admitting to his father and to himself that he should never have joined Starfleet. Yet he could not envision a set of conditions that would allow him to remain on active duty on a star ship. That this would serve to greatly disappoint both Captain Pike and Chief Floinn, he was well aware of. Unfortunately that was something he was used to accomplishing. First his father, and now his friends. On that thought he stopped suddenly, gripped by distaste for his own self pity.

Taking stock of his location, he realized with some surprise that had had wandered nearly as far as China Town. Though chagrined at his inattention, he was now less then 300 meters from a fine eating establishment, one of a small number of preferred destinations when he wished to enjoy a Terran meal. He was about to reorient himself to this fresh goal when his pocket comm chimed. Plucking it out, he flipped the device open to see who was attempting to contact him.

The words on the small display were certainly unexpected. A recorded message, identity unknown, audio only. It was brief, a simple phrase in Vulcan that conveyed Ms. Baeill's exact location. It disturbed him on a number of levels. Why the use of a surrogate? Perhaps Sarek disapproved of his request? If that were indeed the state of affairs, then his father would have made that known directly. The voice was wrong as well. Perfect Vulcan, with no inflection, and no distinguishing cadence. Most Vulcans had regional accents, a fact that few humans were aware of. None of this discomfited him as greatly as the location of Chief Floinn's niece. She was here, on Terra, in this city, less then four miles away. The Chief had said it herself, she had no home but the fleet.

He closed the communicator and took out his PADD. The address given was in a location once known as the Mission District. At the present time, it was mostly given over to inexpensive forms of public habitation. This particular address was registered to a Sergeant Alice Soto, of the Federation Space Marines. His first notion was to go there now, and confront Ms. Baeill directly. Instead, he pulled out the communicator again, opening a link to Sergeant Soto's comm.

"Soto here," a surprisingly deep voice, tinged with fatigue, answered. Then he heard fabric rustle, followed by several expletives uttered in Spanish.

"This is Commander Spock. Forgive the inopportune hour of my call Sergeant Soto. I am attempting to ascertain the whereabouts of a certain Petty Officer Aileen Baeill. Would you be able to assist me in this endeavor?"

"Ah…I'm sorry Commander, could we talk about this tomorrow?"

"No Sergeant, we cannot. I have reliable information to the effect that you have knowledge of her location."

"Look, is this official sir? Because unless it is, I don't have to talk to you about anything."

"For the moment, this inquiry is my own. I think it would be best for all involved if it were to remain so." When it became apparent that Sergeant Soto had no answer for that he pressed on. "My only concern is for Ms. Baeill. I have no other agenda."

"You know sir, I've head that song and dance before. Why the hell would you care?"

"We served together on the Valiant Sergeant. We were shipmates."

"Hey…you're the Vulcan, her Vulcan," she answered suddenly.

"Her Vulcan?"

"Sorry sir, that didn't sound real good. Ally told me about you. Said you were a-ok for an officer."

"Your positive assessment is gratifying Sergeant. However, Petty Officer Baeill's present location would please me far more."

Twenty minutes later found him in a conveyance for hire approaching the destination indicated by Sergeant Soto. His brief conversation with the young woman had been disquieting. Ms. Baeill had been sleeping at the Sergeant's residence for almost a week. She also had implied that Petty Officer Baeill had been consuming an inordinate quantity of alcoholic beverages, a practice Spock knew she sometimes excelled at, even under normal circumstances. Even more worrisome was the location of this consumption, the Dockyards of Old San Francisco. A dense warren of substandard shops and drinking establishments left over after the city's reconstruction early in the 22nd Century, Old San Francisco was a popular destination for Starfleet personnel. The Dockyards was a small community of vice within that neighborhood, recently declared off limits by the Admiralty. That Ms. Baeill would willingly choose such a place for her nightly forays was troubling. Any further thoughts were pushed aside as he became aware that the vehicle transporting him was slowing to a stop.

Outside, the familiar stone and plasti-steel towers of a modern cityscape had given way to narrow streets and low, irregularly shaped buildings. A large crowd was spilled across the street in front of him, obstructing any possibility of further progress. A robotic voice requested that he exit the vehicle and proceed on foot for the remainder of his journey. Then the hatch cracked open, and his ears were assaulted by a cacophony of noise. Songs in many voices, laughter and conversation, individuals proclaiming the excellence of their food, along with a multitude of other sounds that were common to any large celebration. Among the many Terran languages he did recognize (and some he did not), were threaded the tongues of species from other planets of the Federation, mainly Andorian and Tellarite, with a sprinkling of Denobulan and the occasional Betazed dialect.

Once out of the mag-lev car, he started down the street, weaving his way through the heart of the throng, humans and other beings attired in every style of dress (and undress) conceivable. Scattered among the riot of color and fabric were several dark green tunics belonging to Federation Space Marines. Curious he thought that they would be here, apparently on duty from the look of their kit. Scanning the crowd, his eyes locked on a Marine with the single gold bar of a Second Lieutenant. Spock caught her attention and she quickly trotted over to stand by him.

"Lieutenant Kelly Hu sir!" She barked in a typical Marine greeting.

"Commander Spock," he responded making sure that she could hear him above the din. "Lieutenant, what is the occasion for all of this celebratory display?" He asked, sweeping his arm around him at the mob that stretched down the narrow street.

The young woman looked confused for a second then she broke into a wide grin. "It's Launch Day sir!" In response Spock merely raised an eyebrow, which caused her to shake her head.

"You don't know sir? It's the first day the Academy dorms are open for the new term. Tonight, tomorrow night and Saturday. No classes and nothing else to do but get falling down drunk. It's a tradition that the first night all cadets come here."

"Are you expecting difficulty Lieutenant Hu?"

"I don't think so sir. There's a lot of very well-oiled…err…that is to say inebriated people, so the Academy always asks for extra Shore Patrols. We're really here to make sure none of our cadets get themselves into any trouble. It's a rough neighborhood sir."

"Indeed. Thank you Ms. Hu. Carry on."

She saluted smartly and quickly melted into the crowd. Though he had spent a considerable part of his first two years on Terra in this area, he had never been aware of this particular Academy tradition. Not surprising, considering his habitual avoidance of anything that did not involve his studies. Observing the various activities that were unfolding all around him, Spock regretted that he had never allowed himself to experience this. While most of the assembled cadets seemed fixated on intoxication, some had found secondary activities to enjoy as well. One company had dragged a piano out into the street, where they proceeded to play it out of key, singing songs of a decidedly risqué nature. A little further down, two other groups were engaged in competitive activity which involved a multi tiered edifice of young people, one of which managed to reach five levels before finally collapsing into a laughing mass of humanity. There were also jugglers, dancers, and the odd person declaiming obscure Orion poetry. While he could not imagine actually participating in any of the diversions that he was observing (except perhaps the piano playing), he did find them to be most interesting.

After 1.15 kilometers the crowds began to thin. The street grew darker, the buildings more ramshackle. The denizens who wandered this area were trying very hard to blend into the shadows. Most were older then the average cadet, with wary expressions and outerwear fastened against the cooling air. As the noise from the raucous celebration faded, the air grew increasingly heavy with a tang of salty flavor. With memory as his guide, Spock abruptly turned right, cutting through a long, dim alley that went on for several hundred feet before spilling out into the district known as the Dockyards. A narrow lane of concrete extended into the gloom to his left, lined with structures that were little more then jumbles of rough lumber hastily nailed together, piled on top of one another. Many were obviously abandoned, with doors permanently shut and windows open to the elements. Unfortunately, an uncertain number of suspect concerns were still available to investigate, everyone one of which served alcoholic beverages in one form or another.

Spock decided on the straightforward approach, with a single concession to caution. While he was confident that no one would care that he was Vulcan (in fact it could help in many ways), he took care to fasten his coat so that his uniform could not easily be seen. Then he made his way methodically down the street, checking each inhabited building in turn. Most turned out to be rough drinking establishments, with some games of chance and what could charitably called dancing in some of the larger ones. A few also involved the ingestion of illegal narcotics of various forms. Those he avoided, feeling reasonably certain that Ms. Baeill would do likewise.

He had just backed away from the entrance to one such location, his eyes slightly blurry from the pungent aroma wafting through the air, when he heard what sounded like a scuffle. It was emanating from a passageway between the building he was now in front of and the next one down. Flesh slapped together and one man cursed, followed by a loud crack. His first inclination was to bypass whatever unfortunate brawl was taking place there, until he heard another sound that stopped him in his tracks.

"Kirk…you idiot, he's bleeding. I thought you were his friend." hissed a voice dripping with contempt. A voice he instantly recognized despite having heard it only once before. What was Cadet Uhura doing here?

"Damn it," another voice retorted, "I didn't mean to hurt him. He was trying to hit me with that bottle. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Try keeping your big mouth shut," responded yet a third person, incredibly Cadet Gaila. "I still don't understand why you humans get so worked up over a simple failure of monogamy, but you know how Len feels about it."

"All I said was that he's better off without her, and he is!"

"Fine," Cadet Uhura answered in anger, "just don't tell him that when he's drunk."

After a moments hesitation, he moved toward their location. While his duty was clear, there was some uncertainty as to whether it would be wise to place himself in Cadet Uhura's presence at this time. The memory of their last encounter was still a source of confusion for him. Had it been the lack of proper meditation, his less then optimal physical condition, or was something else responsible for his uncharacteristic reaction to her appearance? He had a supposition that was completely logical, based as it was on his know reaction to similar situations in the past. One which he very much wanted to be mistaken.

With some trepidation, he took three quick steps, which placed him at the mouth of the alley, affording him an unobstructed view. The moment his gaze was upon her, uncertainty vanished. Now he knew that this had nothing to do with mediation or any other weakness that he could conveniently blame, other then the one he was born with. He had experienced similar episodes from the time he had entered puberty, as he had learned to cope with one of the unintended consequences of his procreation: hormones.

As a Vulcan/Human hybrid, he was a totally unique individual, literally the first of his kind. As with many experimental processes, some of the results were…unanticipated. While Vulcans expended great effort encouraging the canard that they didn't have feelings, nothing could be further from the truth. Vulcan emotions were powerful, much stronger in fact then their human equivalents. These feelings also differed from humans in that their source was almost wholly in the mind. By means of their mental mastery, his people learned to keep these sentiments locked away, hidden deep within. Only during the Pon Farr did this control break down, overwhelmed with the torrent of hormonally induced lust and rage that assaulted their bodies and minds. With humans hormones were always present, and their increase was not based on a predictable seven year cycle, but rather on things that humans saw, heard, and experienced.

Because of his mixed nature, Spock experienced emotions via two separate biological processes. Being Vulcan allowed him a degree of control that would have been impossible for a human, but still imperfect by Vulcan standards. However similar his physiology was to that of other Vulcans, he experienced the effect of hormones as a human would. While he lived on Vulcan, this had proved to be not so difficult to manage. Despite an occasional angry outburst, and a few other embarrassing faux pas that had occurred when he first entered adolescence, Vulcan had the virtue of being a predictable place to live. Though trial and error, he learned to adapt Vulcan techniques of emotional control to his unique circumstance. In most cases this proved successful. To the humans he interacted with, he was another the perfectly controlled son of Surak.

Then came the Valiant disaster, and this indecipherable emotional reaction to Cadet Uhura. He was quite familiar with sexual desire, but what he was experiencing wasn't quite that. Lust was there to be sure, but blended with other feelings that he had difficulty sorting out. The sound of a groan jolted him back to reality. A man who had been lying on the ground was being helped into a standing position by the other male cadet. Neither of them appeared to be steady on their feet.

"Are you in need of assistance?" He called out, still hidden in the shadows at the mouth of the alley. Immediately, Cadet Gaila's head snapped around, her eyes wide, staring in his direction. Cadet Uhura turned her whole body more slowly, until she was facing him as well. Though he was not visible in the shadows, Spock could tell by their expressions that they both knew his identity. Unfortunately, Cadet Kirk was still in the dark concerning that.

"No thanks," he responded struggling to keep the other man upright. "We've got it handled."

"Forgive me if I find that a highly dubious statement."

"Forgive me if I don't fucking care."

The affect this statement had on the female cadets was interesting. The young Orion quickly placed her hands over her face, but Spock still caught the glimmer of her grin. Cadet Uhura turned and kicked Cadet Kirk rather violently in the leg, causing him to release his more inebriated companion, who slowly slid down to the ground again. Then she proceeded to chastise the confused young man loudly, in an extremely pejorative manner. Spock quickly decided on intervention to prevent further escalation of the conflict. Leaving the shadows he was concealed within, he quickly closed the distance until he was standing before them. Cadet Gaila snapped to attention immediately, and Ms. Uhura follow a few seconds later, still obviously furious with the object of her wrath, who was regarding Spock nervously, still ignorant of who he was.

"Perhaps Cadet Kirk, you would care to amend your previous statement. Might I suggest 'Forgive me if I don't fucking care sir' as more appropriate.

There was a strange moment of silence before Cadet Gaila burst out laughing. Cadet Uhura, ramrod straight, strained to keep a neutral expression on her face before breaking into a huge smile. While remaining at attention, of course. For reasons he would not contemplate, Spock felt immense satisfaction at being the cause of that smile.

Mr. Kirk on the other hand was definitely not smiling, staring first at Uhura, then at Spock, then finally mimicking her stance as his own. A low moan sounded at his feet and Spock looked down to see the other man attempting to push off from the ground. Without conscious thought he griped his arm, hauling him to a standing position. It took only a moments scrutiny to conclude that it wasn't his wisest course of action. The cadet groaned loudly, his faced twisted in discomfort. Realizing what was about to occur, he turned the cadet away from him. Unfortunately, that left him facing Cadet Kirk, who to his credit did not flinch when his friend vomited on his shirt. When the girls had stopped laughing and after Cadet Kirk's mostly futile efforts to cleanse his clothing, he motioned that they should follow, and quickly exited the alley.

"At ease cadets," he began as soon as they were on the street. "I am Commander Spock," he added for Kirk's benefit. "Would one of you care to explain to me what you are doing here?"

"Well sir," Kirk answered, "it's Bone's anniversary."

"Bones?"

"Sorry sir, Cadet Leonard McCoy sir. He likes to drink."

"Yes, that is quite obvious Mr. Kirk."

"He means on this particular day more then most sir," Uhura stated, "it's the anniversary of his marriage."

"Look Commander," Kirk blustered, "we just came along to keep Bones from drinking too much."

"Your success is readily apparent Mr. Kirk," Spock retorted, eyes fixed on the slumping form of McCoy, held upright by his friend. "In any event, excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages is not against Academy regulations, unless of course it becomes a hindrance to your performance."

"Yes sir, thank you sir, Kirk barked, closely skirting the edge of mockery. "We'll get Bones back to his room right away."

"Not yet, Mr. Kirk," Spock answered softly. "While your drinking is not an actionable offense, being here is. Starfleet has declared this area off limits to all personnel."

"Would that include Commanders sir?" Kirk shot back with a small smile.

"An astute observation Mr. Kirk. Shall we remove ourselves to the nearest Shore Patrol and admit to our transgressions?"

Kirk's smile faltered, his eyes glancing toward Uhura. "The only reason we're here was so that Bones could find some…what the hell was he looking for anyway?"

"Absinthe," Uhura spoke up, glaring at Kirk. "I know it was against regulations Commander Spock," she continued, "but McCoy insisted he needed a drink of that…what ever it was. We didn't think it was a good idea to let him come here on his own."

Spock nodded, his gaze sweeping over them, before coming to rest on Cadet Uhura. "I have a pressing matter that demands my attention. You are free to go with one proviso. You will leave this location immediately with assurances that you will not return."

Kirk opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Uhura kicked him in the leg again. "Will you stop that," he shouted, wincing in pain.

"We'll leave," Gaila offered. "The bars here suck anyway…sir."

Uhura nodded and started to turn away. "A word please Cadet," Spock intoned, retreating from the others. After a moments hesitation, the young woman followed.

Once they were well away from her friends, he turned to face her. She spoke first. "You know Commander, Kirk may be a jerk, but he does have a point. You don't have any more right to be here then we do."

"Cadet, I have already specified that I will not report you to the Academy authorities. As to the rest, while I cannot fault your logic, I do not have the available time to dispute the point with you."

"So what is it this time sir, another investigation?"

There were times he thought, that he would have been more then justified in making a public display of his anger. Like now. From the tone of her voice, he was almost certain that she was attempting to goad him into a verbal altercation. He could think of no logical reason for such behavior, and had little interest in ascertaining why she would wish to do this.

"Ms. Uhura, I have no time at the moment for a discussion of my current activities, which in any event are none of your concern."

"Then what do you want to talk about sir?" She asked, in a voice that was not quite condescending.

"Nothing. All I desire is your assurance that you and your companions will leave this location should I allow you to travel on your own."

"We just came down here to have a little fun Commander. Now I know that Vulcans don't approve of fun, but that doesn't mean you have to stop other people from having some on their own free time."

"You have an interesting notion of frivolous enjoyment Cadet. One would think that allowing one of your companions to become so inebriated that he cannot stand would fail to qualify…"

A man was forcibly ejected through a window of the decrepit structure on the other side of the alley. He struck the road with a meaty thump, bouncing twice more before his motion ceased. Moments later, a second sailed out of the now empty pane, rolling across the street before he lay still. Spock started to turn back to the Cadet, intending to remark on how much fun she thought she could truly have here, when he heard the voice. It was high pitched, enraged, and unmistakably Petty Officer Baeill.

"Come on ye feckin tools, which one of ye wants his ass handed to him next!"

He heard a loud thump, but he was already moving fast. Producing his communicator, he opened the link to Chief Floinn and tossed it to Cadet Gaila. "Tell Chief Floinn to come here immediately," he ordered, "tell her I have located her niece."

Then he was passed them, running toward the building. There was a man who was watching the commotion inside. At the sound of Spock's approach he turned, blocking the doorway. He was several inches taller and outweighed him by at least thirty kilos. The moment he realized Spock was Vulcan he moved away, running down the street. Spock stepped into the establishment, stopping just inside the door.

Broken pieces of wooden furniture were scattered across the filthy floor, along with the unmoving forms of two men. Six others were facing off against a single tall female, her long red hair bound tightly in a single braid. Suddenly, one of the men swung a short, black club at her. The woman's left hand shot out with uncharacteristic speed, seizing her attacker's wrist and quickly twisting. Spock winced at the sound of breaking bone and the man fell to the floor screaming.

"Holy shit!"

It was Cadet Kirk's voice. He was standing right behind Spock along with Ms. Uhura, Cadet Gaila, and a wobbly McCoy.

"Indeed Mr. Kirk," he responded. "Indeed."

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Writing this was more difficult then I thought it would be. Feedback is always a good thing so click that review button and let me know what you think. Hopefully, my obsessive viewing of the Star Trek 2009 blu-ray won't cause any delay of my next update. Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to the mighty Paramount. And of course to Roddenberry.

"Remain here," he ordered, looking back at the cadets. "Under no circumstances are any of you to intervene."

Then he launched himself into the chaos, angling rapidly toward Petty Officers Baeill's nearest opponents. One of them observed his approach and produced a knife. Though the weapon appeared to be formidable, the user was not. He easily slipped past an awkward lunge and it was a simple matter to grip the juncture of his neck and shoulder, quickly rendering him insensate. At that same moment, Spock was staggered by the impact of a wooden chair across his back. The implement shattered on contact, leaving him in some discomfort and more then mildly irritated. After taking several small steps to regain his equilibrium, he swiftly turned to see a large and astonished man holding what remained of his improvised weapon. His attacker discarded the now useless implement and turned to flee, running directly into Petty Officer Baeill.

Her reaction was immediate, and highly effective. She seized his arm in an iron grip, and with a violent twist of her hips spun him into a knot of ruffians intent on joining the brawl. She started to turn away, but her head suddenly twisted back until their eyes met. For a moment everything was still, frozen in time like some absurd impressionist painting. Then he observed a large, wooden club about to intersect with her head. His shout of warning was never uttered, owing to the fact that something like a wall of flesh had slammed into him, driving his body into the hard wooden floor.

An extremely large man had come down on top of him, expelling the air from his lungs. This person then proceeded to hit him repeatedly in the face in a surprisingly painful manner. Closing his hand into a fist, he struck the side of his attacker's head, rendering him unconscious. The sound of Ms. Uhura cursing snapped his head around in time to see her boot impact with the someone's face, dropping him to the floor. More thugs were joining the fray, pouring through an open door toward the back of the establishment. Kirk was fighting side by side with her as they attempted to hold off the fresh wave of assailants, while McCoy and Gaila dragged Ms. Baeill's unconscious form out of the brawl.

"Grab him, hold the fucker down," a rough voice shouted as more bodies smashed into him, some kicking and punching, while others grabbed at his arms, face and neck. At the moment of flesh to flesh contact he could feel the ghost of their vile thoughts leaking through his normally impervious mental shields. A fog of violence clouded his mind, and from deep within that dark psyche that every Vulcan feared, the ancient anger began to stir. Someone's boot came down, missing his face only because of a slight bob of his head. He felt the will to savagery burning within, his control slipping away in a sudden rush of adrenalin. When the dam broke, it wasn't owing to the pain inflicted on him or even the emotional onslaught of their touch. Instead, one of the brutes struck Cadet Uhura hard enough to cause her to cry out.

With a roar he sent the men who were assaulting him twisting through the air to smash into the wooden bar nearly ten feet away. Before they had even slid to the floor he was on his feet, throwing his body into the center of a scrum that threatened to engulf the two desperately fighting cadets. The nearest man turned right into his backhanded blow, the impact flipping him over into nearly a complete somersault. Another stepped in to take his place, but a slim, dark arm shot out, breaking his nose with a hammer strike. His yowling was abruptly stopped when Spock applied his balled fist to the man's chin, hurling him into one of his comrades. Both went down in heap and Spock attacked in a fury, using fists, feet, and whatever loose furniture he could reach to beat down the throng besieging Kirk and Uhura. In less then a minute, he had forced his way to her side, striking down half a dozen of the ruffians who attempted to impede to him.

"Help Kirk!" She screamed, snapping off a side kick that staggered a man in front of her.

Kirk? The rage was like a fog to his brain, clouding his vision to everything but her. Reluctantly he turned to see three others holding the struggling cadet while a forth pummeled him mercilessly. In a few steps he was on top of them, grabbing the first one he could reach, throwing him against the nearest wall. Another drove his shoulder into his stomach, but he was braced for the impact which had little effect, other then to open his attacker to a counter strike which swiftly dropped him to the floor. A club whistled toward his head, but he leaned away from the blow, reaching out to wrench the weapon away. Before the man could react, he rammed the end into his stomach, pinching his neck as he doubled over. The loud crack of Kirk's fist intersecting with a jaw brought the another man down. He turned just in time to see Ms. Uhura dispatch the last thug with a textbook roundhouse kick. For several moments her eyes flicked across the room, then settled on Spock as her hand came up to her bruised face.

"We should go sir," she said in a shaky voice.

He nodded, surveying the broken furniture, shattered glass and unconscious bodies spread out before him, cognizant of the fact that most of this was his doing. It was just another confirmation of his failure to conform to Vulcan principles. His people were schooled from childhood to avoid violence as they were taught to maintain their emotional control. These were the two most important moral imperatives of the Vulcan way. Yet, when a shipmate was in danger, you were required to help, an obligation that applied with even greater force in this situation, because Aileen Baeill was his friend as well. Indeed, was not the melee itself that he found disturbing. As a serving officer, Spock had understood the occasional need to resort to violent action was unavoidable. Rather it was the feeling of satisfaction, that ancient pleasure demonstrating his physical prowess to any who dared to challenge him. At some point in the fight he had ceased merely defending himself, nearly reverting to that which all Vulcans dreaded, that savagery which was part of the fundamental stuff of the Vulcan soul.

"Commander Spock, are you injured?" Cadet Uhura inquired loudly, this time in Vulcan.

"I am unharmed Cadet," he responded briskly. Closing his eyes, Spock searched inward, but the anger that had drove him only moments before was only a whisper inside his head. When his eyes opened again he could see Uhura looking at him uncertainly, and he started moving to her in long, hurried strides.

She was crouched next to Kirk, who was on his feet, but hutched over, his hands propped against his knees. At Spock approach he straightened, swaying in an alarming manner. Blood tricked out of his nose and mouth and his eyes were unfocused. Ms. Uhura took him firmly by the arm, leading him out the door. After remaining a few moments to ensure that there would be no pursuit, Spock followed. Outside the establishment, only Cadet Gaila waited for them.

"Where is she?" Spock inquired, as he surveyed the immediate vicinity for any sign of the Petty Officer.

"Relax Commander, she's over there," the Orion answered, pointing to the decaying structure next to the which they had just vacated. "Doctor McCoy is examining her."

"McCoy? Are you referring to the intoxicated individual who could not even maintain his own balance?"

"Um…yeah, that's him sir," she stammered, but Spock was already moving toward the building she had indicated.

It was similar to many he had encountered during his brief foray here in that it was abandoned and appeared to be in danger of collapse. Inside he found Ms. Baeill on the dirty floor, reclining on a coat that had been spread out underneath her. McCoy was kneeling beside her, operating a portable medical sensor. Spock observed that there was blood smeared along the right side of her face and matted in her hair, and that her normally pale complexion had taken on a sickly pallid appearance.

"What is her condition?" He inquired, after walking over to stand next to them. McCoy ignored him, continuing to stare at his instrument. "You will answer me Cadet," Spock demanded after a few seconds.

"Sorry Commander," he shot back, "I don't have to answer a question about this patient's condition to anyone but her commanding officer. This woman needs my help. Would you get out of my way so I can give it to her."

His first impulse was to render the man unconscious with a nerve pinch. Unfortunately, McCoy was a doctor and was correct in his assertion that Ms. Baeill was in need of medical attention. There was however, one issue that needed to be addressed.

"First you must demonstrate to me that you are capable of rendering her assistance."

"I don't have time for this," the other man blustered.

"You were drunk not ten minutes ago **Doctor**," Spock responded flatly. "While it is true that I am no longer Petty Officer Baeill's commanding officer, I still consider her a friend. Prove to me you can treat her without causing harm."

The other man's face took on a reddish tinge, and for a moment Spock was certain he was going to be subjected to another emotional outburst. Instead, McCoy pulled a vial out of his pocket and tossed it to him. Though empty, it was clearly labeled as a standard alcohol metabolizing agent. Inclining his head, Spock stepped aside. Behind him, he could hear the others entering. Curious, he turned so that he could observe Mr. Kirk's reaction while still keeping watching over McCoy.

Though somewhat unsteady, the young man appeared to be fully alert, his eyes roaming the dim area with a studied wariness. Right up until the point were he noticed Ms. Baeill lying next to Cadet McCoy. For an instant Kirk's stride faltered, then stopped entirely, his gaze taking her in before focusing intently on a particular part of her anatomy. Spock is amazed once more at how predictable the male of the human species could be.

From the first moment he encountered her, Spock was well aware that by any standard, Petty Officer Baeill was an engaging woman. Her facial features were well formed, the color of her hair striking, which along with her long and well proportioned legs made for an agreeable whole. Not that he had noticed. Which made it all the more puzzling to him why a single aspect of her anatomy garnered so much attention from so many human males. He recalled how this subject once came up in one the many conversations he'd had with Captain Pike while playing chess. Indeed, it was one of the more uncomfortable discussions that he had ever participated in.

"_So Spock," Pike began, after putting a bishop in play, "how did you mange to break Mr. Bowman's nose?" _

"_I believe that all pertinent information was included in my incident report sir."_

"_It was a model of clarity Lieutenant; very thorough. There's really only one point I'm hazy on."_

"_Hazy sir?"_

_Pike nodded, pausing to take a sip from his beer. "That's right Spock. Hazy. Denotes confusion. We humans tend to be confused quite often."_

"_So I have noticed Captain."_

"_Right. Anyway, I know that you're very careful when you spar with the ship's company. You take it easy with most of us, and believe me I'm grateful for that. So what happened this time?"_

_Spock poured himself more tea, silently studying the board. "Ensign Bowman was distracted sir."_

"_Distracted? He was sparing with you and he was distracted? Does he have a death wish? And why didn't you state that in your report?"_

"_I apologize sir. It seemed more appropriate to issue a verbal reprimand, considering the circumstances."_

"_And what were those?"_

"_Apparently, his attention wandered sir."_

"_Yes Lieutenant, I think we've already established that. Now would you mind telling me why?" _

_Spock took up his queen, rolling the wooden piece between his thumb and forefinger. "I confess that I am not entirely sure Captain."_

"_Did you ask Bowman?"_

"_Affirmative. And after some hesitation, Mr. Bowman was quite forthcoming with his explanation. Unfortunately, I could make no sense of it sir."_

"_Would you just tell me Spock."_

"_Very well sir. Ensign Bowman claimed that the cause of his inattention was his reaction to the sight of Petty Officer Baeill's calisthenics routine. More specifically, he stated that it was the view he was afforded of her partly exposed breasts." _

_Spock was watching Pike carefully, and therefore saw the huge grin that his Captain flashed right before he bowed his head. "I fail to understand why you would find this humorous sir. It was only through random chance that a more serious injury was avoided." _

"_Sorry Spock, you're right of course. It's just that I can understand the distraction factor where Ms. Baeill is involved."_

_He moved one of his pawns to reinforce the first. "Am I to assume sir, that this behavior is due to the irrational reaction I have observed among many of the male crew in regards to Ms. Baeill's appearance?"_

"_So you have noticed. I didn't know if a Vulcan would."_

"_Captain, I am Vulcan, not blind. As you are well aware, I am also half human, with numerous opportunities to observe human males while at the Academy."_

"_Not that an attractive woman would have any effect on you," Pike remarked, after moving a bishop of his own to guard his exposed knight._

_Spock silently considered his next move, then slid yet another pawn out to reinforce his strong position at the center of the board. "In the general course of every day events, that would certainly be true sir."_

"_What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

"_Only sir, that over the course of my exposure to human females, I have observed an atypical reaction on my part beyond what I would normally expect to a certain kind of physical appearance."_

"_Spock," Pike replied, after breaking into a sly smile, "are you trying to tell me that you have a type?"_

"_I believe that is an accurate, if crude description sir."_

"_I don't suppose you'd care to say what it is?" The Captain asked. He was still grinning as he moved his other knight into a position that would threaten Spock's pawn structure. _

_Helen Chipo immediately came to mind. His piano teacher during a nine month period he spent on earth, a time that encompassed his twelfth birthday, and his painful journey through puberty. Exquisite, dark brown skin. A elegant countenance that displayed her symmetrical features and lush, full lips to marvelous effect. Somewhat above average height, with a slim, athletic figure and long, perfectly formed legs. Legs that seemed at the time like instruments of torment, exposed for his eyes only. _

"_I would not sir, other then to reassure you that Ms. Baeill does not fit the description."_

However Cadet Uhura most definitely did, something he had not adequately considered before now. Was his fascination merely a consequence of her striking resemblance to his first adolescent infatuation? At other times he had interacted with many women who had resembled Ms. Chipo, without experiencing anything close to the sensibility his contact with this young woman had spawned. Hardly the typical behavior of a Vulcan, but then as he had been so often reminded in the course of his life, neither was he.

"So Commander," Cadet Uhura inquired softly in Vulcan, her head nodding in Ms. Baeill direction, "is this person the pressing matter that demanded your attention?"

"Indeed she is Ms. Uhura," he answered, eyes fixed on the Doctor who was treating his friend.

"She doesn't seem like your type sir," she responded smugly, switching back to English.

Interesting he thought, that she should choose that particular expression. How could one person could be so alluring and yet so irritating? He turned his head, and stared at her, but this only prompted the young woman to smile.

"I have often wondered Ms. Uhura, at the human propensity to assume that any relationship between the sexes must be amorous in nature."

"That sounds like the voice of experience sir."

With a shake of his head, he turned back to watching McCoy. "Simply a conclusion based on extensive observation, Ms. Uhura."

"Observation? Are you kidding sir? You don't get to know what a human is feeling by simply observing them."

"I disagree Cadet. One may learn a great deal from prolonged and close observation. I have found humans to be rather imprecise in expressing their emotions. Their actions, on the other hand, are usually much more revealing."

"So how long have you been observing her sir?"

"Her name is Aileen Baeill. We served together for 4.236 years. During most of that period, I was her commanding officer."

"Then you must know her pretty well, if she was serving under you sir."

The tone of her voice puzzled him. Was the Cadet making a simple observation or was she implying something more? Humans. Why did they insist upon such obtuse forms of communication? If Ms. Uhura thought that he was inappropriately involved with a non commissioned officer, why did she not just state her belief unambiguously? Any further comment he would have made was rendered moot when McCoy suddenly stood up and stalked toward him.

"Commander, we need to talk." It was not a request.

"Certainly Doctor, if you would be so kind as to…"

"She's going to be fine. Woman's got one hell of a hard head. One that's been knocked around too much recently. My examination revealed signs of a recent traumatic head injury."

"Indeed Doctor, I am aware of that."

"You knew?"

"How could I not, considering I was present when the injury occurred?"

"Unbelievable," the Doctor muttered, shaking his head. "So you just let this young woman run around and get herself into fights! She should be under medical supervision, not mixing it up in bar room brawls!"

"Doctor, I was not aware of Ms. Baeill activities, or even that she was present on Terra until approximately two hours ago."

"I thought Starfleet officers made it a point to take care of their people?!"

"We no longer serve together Cadet McCoy," he stated smoothly, betraying none of the conflict that he was experiencing. Guilt was illogical and regrets concerning past actions did nothing to help present circumstances. Which made him no less certain that he had failed her.

"Would you lay off Lenny," Cadet Gaila snapped, shaking her head. "She was on the Valiant too, wasn't she?"

"Affirmative," was all Spock would say. Apparently this was sufficient grounds for the excitable Doctor to produce his medical sensor and subject him to a scan.

"Damn it to hell, you're in worse shape then she is," he blustered, after looking at the read out.

"I assure you Doctor, that I have been certified fit to return to active duty."

"Who made that decision, a witch doctor? Because from what I'm seeing here you are not fully recovered from the injuries that you sustained."

"Nor did I say I was. Only that I am fit to return to active duty. In any event, as you are neither a Starfleet medical officer nor my personal physician, the matter is none of your concern."

"Now wait a minute you pointed eared…"

A loud groan interrupted McCoy's tirade. Both men turned to see Ms. Baeill struggling to sit up, which prompted the Doctor to hurry back to her. He knelt down extending a hand to gently restrain her, only to suddenly find his wrist captured in a painful grip.

"Release him immediately Petty Officer," Spock commanded, loudly enough that everyone jumped.

"Sorry sir," she croaked, pulling her hand back and freeing McCoy, her eyes darting between him and her Vulcan shipmate.

"Don't worry about it," McCoy drawled, rubbing his wrist. "Just lie back and take it easy."

"What…where am I?" She asked in a strained voice, which had almost no trace of an accent. Not surprising to Spock, who knew that the cadence in her voice had been produced by the consumption of too much alcohol.

"Our current location is an abandoned building in the Dockyards," he answered after she had complied with McCoy's request to resume a reclining position. "I would be most interested in knowing what reason you have for placing yourself in this location?"

"Knock it off Commander," the Doctor interrupted in a hard voice. "You might not be my patient but this woman is, and I'm not done with my examination." Spock nodded, stepping back to give the other man some room. "Now Ms. Baeill," the human continued, "why don't you tell me how you're feeling?"

"Feeling like some bugger is playing the drums inside my head."

"Anything else?"

She nodded slowly. "My stomach. Feels like to puking."

"Well, that one is my fault. Alcohol metabolizing agent. It'll go away in a few minutes. As to your head, when someone conks you on the noggin, it's supposed to hurt. Just close your eyes and relax for a moment." He scanned her again, then pulled a small vial out of his portable med kit. "I can give you a pain killer if you want. It will knock you out for…"

"NO!" She shouted, her voice tinged with panic.

"Petty Officer, you need the rest." Pulling the hypo from his kit, he snapped the vial into place. "Right now the best medicine I can proscribe is for you to get plenty of sleep."

"And I said I won't have it!" She snapped pushing herself to sit up. "If you try and give me that, I'll shove it down your bleedin throat!"

"Please calm yourself Petty Officer," Spock ordered evenly. "Lie down before you empty the contents of your stomach. Doctor, come with me."

With quick steps, he lead McCoy past the three other cadets and through the doorway. Once outside, Spock made sure they both kept to the deep shadows that veiled the front of the ramshackle building. As soon as he came to a halt McCoy stepped toward him until their faces were inched apart.

"Damn it Spock, I'm the Doctor here."

"No one is disputing that Cadet McCoy. If you feel you are able to give Ms. Baeill that hypo without incurring serious bodily harm, then by all means proceed." Mumbling obscenities, McCoy ran both his hands over his face, then glared at the Vulcan, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You could order her to accept treatment."

"Indeed I could Doctor, and if you inform me that she is in imminent danger of serious harm, I will do so. Otherwise, I would prefer to convince her through reasoned argument."

"If your asking me if she's going to drop dead in the next little while, then I'd have to say no. She's not in good shape though. From the readings I took, I can tell you that she suffered major head trauma in the past few weeks that she's not fully recovered from."

"As I stated earlier, I am aware of that."

"Well here's something that I bet you don't know," McCoy barked. "That young woman hasn't been sleeping. At all. From the level of fatigue toxins that have built up in her system, I doubt she's had more then a eight hours of sleep in the last six days. Frankly, I'm not sure how she can stay awake, even without the sedative."

"She is Hibernian Doctor."

"Damn it, why didn't I catch that?"

"The genetic drift after only 176.631 years is negligible from baseline human norms. The major physiological differences of increased muscle mass and endurance are rather the natural result of living on a high gravity planet during childhood and adolescence."

"Hibernian or not, she still needs to sleep. It's hindering her body's ability to recover from the head trauma. And it brings up another point Commander. Why isn't she sleeping in the first place?"

"It is one of many questions I shall be posing to her Doctor, which I will be unable to do if you insist on giving her a sedative."

"Now wait just a damned minute! This is about a hell of a lot more then giving that woman a hypo. Your Petty Officer needs a thorough physical and psychological examination."

"Which she will not be able to undergo tonight in any event. Doctor, I am not disputing any aspect of your medical advise. All I am requesting is that we delay by several hours administering a sedative so that she is able to discuss with myself and her Aunt what is troubling her."

McCoy's features were expressive, even by human standards. His current bearing was one that promised further pointless argumentation. Fortunately, Cadet Gaila choose that moment to present herself, offering him his communicator. Taking it with a nod, he flipped it open

"Spock here."

"What's going on Spock?" It was Captain Pike, sounding mildly irritated. "Did you find her?"

"Affirmative sir."

"Why didn't you call back?"

"There were complications sir."

"Complications?"

"Involving alcoholic beverages and fisticuffs Captain."

"Damn. Ok, hang on. I've got a fix on your communicator. I'm going to put this thing down in the street."

"Who was that?" McCoy demanded, his voice projecting hostility.

"My former commanding officer, Captain Christopher Pike."

Before McCoy could reply, a sleek vehicle came into view, a faintly glowing teardrop with short, stubby wings, that was falling slowly out of the sky. It was a flitter, one of the larger ones, kept aloft by an antigrav generator and propelled by a small ion drive. With his customary skill, Pike maneuvered the craft into position over the narrow street, before dipping down to land with barely a sound. In short order Cadet Uhura joined McCoy and Spock, along with a somewhat unsteady Petty Officer Baeill leaning on a very smug Mr. Kirk for support. The smooth exterior cracked open and the Captain hopped out followed by Chief Floinn. Neither appeared to be in good spirits. Pike's brisk stride faltered when he noticed that Spock and Baeill were not alone. The three cadets who knew him snapped to attention, followed by McCoy after a swift elbow to the ribs courtesy of Gaila.

"Spock, would you mind explaining to me what these cadets are doing here?"

Both Kirk and Uhura started to reply, but Pike quickly cut them off. "Did I ask either of you a question?"

"Captain Pike," Uhura continued, despite Kirk's whispered warning, "with all due respect sir, we can answer for ourselves."

"Are ye deaf girl?" Chief Floinn barked, marching over to stand only inches from the cadet's face. "Ye are in the presence of a senior officer who is not interested in any cheek that comes out of your mouth."

"I'm not talking to you," Uhura snapped in return, "and I have every right to…"

"Be silent!" The Chief ordered in a low voice. "I'll hear no more of your impertinence! Ye will not speak until spoken to!"

"Calm down Chief," Pike cut in shaking his head. "I know you're upset, but you don't need to take it out on Cadet Uhura. Now Mr. Spock, what's the story?"

"Captain, as I related before, when I happened upon Petty Officer Baeill, she was engaged in a violent confrontation with some of the locals. The cadets were eager to offer their assistance in helping to defuse the situation. Doctor McCoy was also kind enough to undertake treating Ms. Baeill for her injuries."

"Really? How lucky for you."

"Indeed Captain. Random chance seems to have operated in my favor."

"Any idea how these cadets wandered into a restricted area?"

"That would be pure speculation on my part Captain."

"Go ahead and speculate Commander."

"Captain, I observed no signs or other written warnings stating that Starfleet personal were not permitted here. It would be a simple matter for inexperienced cadets to stray into this area without realizing where they were."

"You amaze me Spock," Pike answered with a wide smile. "I can't believe you could serve four years in my command without learning how to prevaricate." Still smiling, he turned to Cadet Uhura. "So Ms. Uhura, can you come up with a better story then that?"

"I wanted some absinthe sir," the young woman answered slowly after a moments hesitation. "Someone told me that the only place in the city that served it was down in the Dockyards."

"And your friends had a taste for it to, which is why they followed you into a restricted area. You're even worse then Commander Spock Cadet. You want to try that again?"

"It was me sir," McCoy spoke up before Uhura could say anything. "This whole thing was my idea. It's…well my wedding anniversary. It's a day that I usually deal with by getting falling down drunk sir. Preferably alone."

"Only your friends wouldn't let you go off on your own."

"No sir," Kirk chimed in with a sly grin. "When it comes to drinking, Bones really knows his stuff. But he's not worth a damn in a fight. So when he told us he was coming here, we thought it might be a good idea to keep an eye on him."

"It's true sir," Gaila added, fighting a smile of her own, "Lenny got beat up pretty bad when he went out alone last year. We didn't want that to happen again."

"Well Doctor, you're one hell of a lucky man to have such dedicated protectors. Maybe you should think about that when this day comes around next year."

"That's actually a good idea sir."

"And what about you Petty Officer Baeill?" Pike demanded, his voice hard, as he turned to face the her. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"There is nothing I can say sir," she murmured, after coming to attention when he had addressed her. "I can offer no excuse for my actions."

"That's not going to cut it Petty Officer. When you decided to disappear, you upset a lot of people, including me."

"And for that I am very sorry sir."

There was a long silence. Ms. Baeill had bowed her head, saying nothing more. Both Captain Pike and the Chief were stiff with anger, the cadets wary yet curious. Spock's voice cut through the awkward stillness.

"Perhaps it would be preferable to continue this conversation in other location."

"The Commander is right sir," Chief Floinn agreed, "we should all be away from this place."

"Where are we going sir?"

"You and your friends are going back to the Academy Ms. Uhura. I think you've had enough fun for one night."

"What about her Captain?" McCoy huffed, pointing at the Petty Officer. "I already told Spock that she needed a complete exam, and I'm going to stay with her until I'm sure that she gets one."

"Are you saying that you don't trust me Cadet?" Pike replied, his face expressionless.

"This isn't about trust. I was a doctor before I joined Starfleet. I always made sure my patients got the treatment they required whether they like it or not. That's not about to change just because I've put on a blasted uniform."

"Ok Doc," Pike answered, flashing a grin, "how about this. Petty Officer Baeill spends the night at Master Chief Floinn's apartment, and tomorrow you can come around and give her that exam."

"I guess that will work Captain," McCoy grumbled after a long period of uncomfortable silence. "I'm sure you have a reason why you want me to examine her, rather then Starfleet Medical. But you need to realize that if I find anything that I can't handle in the course of the examination, that's where she is going to go."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you Doctor."

"Alright then, I'll come by at 1300."

"And Doctor," Chief Floinn added with a smile, "there is a brilliant bottle of Bushmill 16 that ye are welcome to, after of course the doctoring is done."

"Now that's the kind of bribery I could get used to."

With a nod from the Captain, Chief Floinn ushered the cadets into the flitter leaving only Pike, Spock, and Petty Officer Baeill

"Is there something you want to say?" Pike asked abruptly, his eyes on Baeill once more.

"I already have a place to stay Captain. And despite what that Doctors says, I am not feeling poorly."

You're going back to your Aunt's apartment," he answered, "and Doctor McCoy is going to give you a complete check up."

"Am I to have no choice in any of this?"

"You can either do as your told," Pike responded coldly, "or I can place you under arrest. That's the only choice you get Petty Officer."

Aileen Baeill took a deep breath, then turned to Spock. "You should never have gone looking for me sir. You should have just let things be." She walked quickly over to the flitter, with Spock and Pike following closely.

Ten minutes later the sleek craft settled to the ground near the Academy campus. The short trip had been uncomfortable, with McCoy and Kirk sitting on the floor, wedged between the seats. As soon as the engine shut down, the four cadets started to rise, only to be stopped by a gesture from Captain Pike.

"I want the four of you to report to the Provost's Office at 0800 the day after tomorrow. Don't be late."

"Excuse me sir," Uhura replied, glaring at Spock. "According to Commander Spock, Admiral Okeke was relieved of his duties."

"He has been Cadet. The official announcement will be made tomorrow, along with the appointment of his temporary replacement."

"Well I just think it's wrong sir. He didn't do anything that was against the rules. He was a good man."

"Damn right he was," Kirk chimed in, winking at Uhura. "I wonder who they're going to replace him with. Probably some hard ass."

"Oh I don't know about that Kirk. I'd say the new Provost is a pretty understanding guy. He's firm, but fair."

"Sounds like you know him sir."

"You could say that Mr. Kirk. In fact I see the man every morning, staring at me from my mirror when I shave."

**A/N: My apologies that it took so long to post this. I've had problems with my computer that are still on going. As always, I would like to hear from anyone who is reading this. Anything you could share that will improve the story is appreciated. Or, you could just tell me what a great story this is. Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

Shipmates Chapter Nine: No Way Out

Chief Floinn's apartment was small, but well situated in a comparatively desirable area near the old shipyards. While you could not actually view the ocean from it's location, the smell of salt air was strong. When Spock remarked on this, Chief Floinn flashed a smile, something she had not done since she had stepped out of the flitter to retrieve her niece.

"I thank ye kindly sir. I believe tis well worth the small fortune I paid to have it."

"I thought you took out a lease." Pike remarked.

"No sir. I am sick unto death of having to find new quarters whenever me hitch is done. Besides, I will not be with the fleet forever."

Once inside Spock was impressed with the simple, yet elegant furnishings that Chief Floinn had acquired. Running a long hand over the smooth surface of a small wooden table, he asked if it was a family heirloom.

"Ye have a good eye Commander. It was my mother's, as is most of these other things. Glad I am to finally get them out of storage." Then she took her niece by the hand and practically dragged her into another room, closing the door behind them.

There were several other antique furnishings, including a striking sofa that was upholstered in a rich brocade of purple, with silver stitching. On the walls were framed pictures of the half dozen ships that Chief Floinn and served on. The holo of the Valiant was trimmed in black. As Spock stared at it, a sensation of sadness took hold once again for those who had perished. When he finally looked away, Captain Pike was standing nearby, staring at him with an expression the Spock could not decipher.

"Spock…if you need to talk about anything…"

"I appreciate the offer Captain," Spock countered, his Vulcan mask firmly in place once again.

Pike nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Do you want some tea?"

"That would be most welcome sir."

Silence reigned while Pike prepared the beverage. Apparently he had been here before, as he knew were all the accoutrements were kept. While they waited for the water to boil, Spock's curiosity about a statement the Captain had made earlier got the better of him.

"Captain, Provost of the Academy?"

Pike smiled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. Difficult to imagine."

"I beg to differ sir. I am confident you will perform admirably. However, I am not certain you will find academia as challenging as you would commanding the Enterprise."

Pike just stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. "You're damned right about that Spock! Which is why this is a temporary assignment. Admiral Barnett will be the new Commandant, and he specifically requested an active duty officer for Provost. Nogura asked if I would do it, and I agreed, but only with the understanding that I would be free to continue as Captain of the Enterprise."

"Sir, while I have no doubt as to your ability to serve in either position, I cannot see how it would be possible to do justice to both simultaneously."

"It wouldn't be Mr. Spock. However, Nogura also informed me that the launch date for Enterprise is being pushed back nine months."

"Interesting. Would this be related to the difficulties that we uncovered concerning the M-5 program sir?"

"Of course I can't confirm that Spock," Pike replied with a smile, "and I'm sure I don't have to."

"Quite understandable sir," Spock answered, choosing a fragrant herbal from a tray of excellent teas. The water was nearly ready.

"I know it's going to be tough, even with the extra time, but I just couldn't turn Barnett down. He's got some very exciting ideas on how to inject practical elements into the Academy curriculum, without dumbing things down. He also plans to make some changes to the Academy Compact."

"The program sounds intriguing sir. However, I foresee difficulties in getting cadets to secure payment into a program that infringes on what they consider hard won rights."

"Yeah. I'm not sure that Barnett understands what a hornet's nest the Cadet Assembly can be." Shaking his head, Pike took the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring it into the pot. "Still, I think this is just what the Academy needs."

"I do not disagree sir. Although academic instruction is extremely thorough, other aspects of cadet training do not receive adequate attention."

"Exactly. You know Spock, there's no way I would even consider doing this if I didn't have you and the Chief available to deal with the preparations for launching the Enterprise."

And here is was, the moment he had been loath to confront. While it was true that he had indicated his strong desire to serve as First Officer of the Enterprise to Captain Pike, this had been more of an unofficial understanding between two friends. Now Pike was requesting that this bargain be made legitimate, which he could no longer do. Even though he was certain of his decision, Spock did regret that he would not be able to render this service to someone who had done so much for him.

"Something wrong Spock?" Pike asked, his attention fixed on the Vulcan. How very perceptive he was, for a Human.

Before he had formulated a response, Chief Floinn burst out of the room that she and her niece had entered 10 minutes and 39 seconds ago. After the door slammed shut, she stopped and took several deep breaths, then headed straight for the kitchen.

"Excuse me sirs," she barked, walking between them to a cabinet in a far corner of the small kitchen. Opening a door, she took down a bottle and one glass.

"Say Chief, that's not the…"

"…Bushmill 16? No, indeed it is not Captain. As I am very sure that ye are aware, it has already been promise to a certain Doctor. Tis only a bottle of Jameson."

"You wouldn't happen to have an extra glass?" Pike asked, and Spock noted a certain pleading quality to his voice.

"Of course sir," Floinn replied smugly. Two more glasses came down, and she poured three fingers into each, adding ice to one, which she gave to Captain Pike. The other she offered to Spock with a shrug. "Tis for Aileen. She would not offer a word to me about her behavior. Said that she would only discuss the matter with you Commander. Perhaps with this ye might loosen her tongue."

Spock found Ms. Baeill sitting on the floor in the corner of what was the Chief's bedroom. Knees drawn up, and shoulders hunched over, she said nothing to him, only shaking her head when he offered her the drink. Placing the unwanted beverage on a table, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, and considered his options.

Eventually, she would speak. All he need do was wait until that occurred, and he was very good at waiting. However, that course of action did not appealed to Spock at all. While is was always less complicated for him to allow humans to initiate exchanges of an emotional nature, he did not believe that this would be fair to Petty Officer Baeill. This presented something of a conundrum. He was fairly certain of the source of her anguish, since it was his own as well. He also realized that though they both felt guilt, they did not experience that feeling in the same way. It would be illogical to pretend that this was so, even if he had been capable of doing so. As Captain Pike had observed earlier, prevarication was not his strong suit. Fortunately, he had a notion of exactly what he could say that would provoke her to speak.

"I have requested that I be removed from the active duty roster."

He spoke the words in the same manner that he would have described the weather. Nonetheless, it had the desired effect. Her head jerked up, the expression on her face very much like it would have been if he had declared himself to be an Orion slave girl.

"Sir…I don't understand why you would do that."

"I think that you do…Aileen."

"You loved the Valiant," she countered, her voice rising. Realizing what she had said, Baeill looked away, shaking her head in frustration. "Sorry sir…I know that's the wrong word, but I won't take it back."

"Nor would I ask it of you. While it does not precisely describe my feelings on the matter, it is certainly not wholly inaccurate."

"Feelings sir?"

"Yes Aileen, feelings. While I choose not to express my emotions, I do have them."

"I know sir," she whispered. "I still don't understand. You are the best officer I ever served under. You made that ship a better place to be. Why would you give that up?"

"I do not want there to be any misunderstanding between us. Regardless of the anguish **we** have experienced over our actions that day, it was our duty to act as we did. There were no other options open to us. Nevertheless, I find the possibility that I might again be placed in a similar position at some point in the future to be intolerable."

"Anguish sir? Isn't that another feeling?"

"Indeed."

"I'm not understanding you too good sir. You say that we were doing our duty, and yet you feel bad about it. So bad that you are giving up something that…well something you do very well…"

…and that I have derived considerable satisfaction from," he finished, tilting his head slightly and looking directly at her. "My decision is not based on how I feel, Ms. Baeill. As I just stated, we had an obligation to our shipmates that compelled us to take measures that we would normally find unacceptable. It is only logical for me to take steps to ensure that I never again find myself in such a situation."

"It seems to be sir, that however you fancy up the reasons, your decision is still an emotional one."

"Perhaps so Petty Officer," he granted, after a few seconds of silence. "However you might disagree with my action, I at least have accepted what occurred on the Valiant. Something you have taken extraordinary steps to avoid."

"You have no right!" She retorted, springing up to stand before him, fists firmly planted on her hips.

"Your failure to report as ordered to Hibernia. Your refusal to inform anyone of this decision, most especially your Aunt, whom you have worried for no good reason. The reckless behavior you were exhibiting when I found you. I submit that these actions constitute avoidance."

"They were going to give me a medal," she snarled, and then started to pace back and forth across the small room.

"A medal?" He echoed in confusion.

"That's right! A bleedin award for what happened on the Valiant!"

"I do not understand," he stated, profoundly disturbed by the notion. "Starfleet has not yet released…"

"Twas not the fleet sir, it was my fecking uncle, the Honorable Altan Tallon."

"Your uncle is the Chief Magistrate of Hibernia?"

"Ha! Chief drunk of Hibernia is more the like."

"How did he become aware of your situation?"

"I don't know sir. He sent me a message that caught up to me at Rigel. They were going to have a parade sir! He wanted me to give a damned speech! I just couldn't face it."

"Indeed. Under the circumstances I find that quite understandable."

She stopped her back and forth movements, but would not face him. "I thought about going to Risa, but then I remembered that Alice was stationed on Terra, and I sent her a message. She offered me a place to stay, so I took ship on a small freighter out of Rigel. That's when the horrid dreams started. Most nights I woke to their screams in my head. Got so bad I didn't want to sleep at all."

Spock considered what she had told him. In the light of her uncle's thoughtless attempt to 'honor' something he was certain she wished not to dwell on, he could well understand her desire to flee. Given similar circumstances, he may well have followed a similar course of action. This talk of nightmares was unsettling. From what little he knew of human psychology, it was a strong indicator the trauma of her experience on the Valiant was severely effecting her.

"Ms. Baeill, why have you not approached your aunt concerning this?"

"I just couldn't face her," she groaned. "I know, it's stupid…I know she would understand what we had to do…I guess I'm just afraid…" Her voice broke and her hand went to her face, wiping away her tears.

"I find that I am in an identical sea going vessel. I have avoided explaining what happened on the Valiant to either Chief Floinn or Captain Pike. I am convinced that was an error on my part, one that I intend to remedy now. Moreover, I believe that you should do the same."

She smiled at the first part of his statement, but that quickly changed to a frown when he was finished. "I don't think I could do that sir."

"You misunderstand me Petty Officer. What I am proposing is that we inform them together."

She sat heavily on the bed near him, still looking away. "I suppose that does make sense, seeing that it is our story to tell. Only thing is, I'd very much prefer if you did the talking sir."

"That is acceptable Ms. Baeill."

Then she did look at him, with an expression that he could only characterize as relief. How curious that inwardly he was experiencing the same emotion. Then she stood up and retrieved the drink he had placed on the table. After she had gulped it down, she nodded.

They found The Chief and Captain Pike in the kitchen having a discussion concerning his new appointment as Provost of Starfleet Academy. Perhaps discussion was the wrong word, as only Chief Floinn was talking. Actually, talking was not a completely accurate description. In fact, she appeared to be shouting had him. Apparently, she was displeased with the Captain's new career choice.

"…and if ye think I am going agree to be your secretary so ye can play Yoda to spoiled, immature cadets then ye have truly lost whatever good sense ye had left…sir"

Pike spotted them first, looking relieved at his rescue. "Spock…Petty Officer, what can we do for you?"

"We have something we wish to discuss. However before we begin, I think Ms. Baeill could use another alcoholic beverage, while I would very much like a mug of hot chocolate."

Pike looked dumbfounded, while the Chief shook her head and laughed. Several minutes later found them seated in the Chief's parlor, drinks in hand. Ms. Baeill fidgeted nervously, while the Chief and Captain were quiet, but curious.

"Petty Officer Baeill and I have agreed that as our friends and former shipmates, you deserve to hear of what transpired on the Valiant from us, rather then reading it from a Starfleet report. Christopher…Muirne, I also wish to apologize for not informing you of this earlier."

"Spock…isn't this classified?"

"Technically yes Captain. However, Admiral Nogura has indicated to me that most of what occurred will be made public in the next day or so."

"There is no blame to be had for not wanting to tell us something ye could not talk about sir."

"In point of fact Chief, information about the Valiant was restricted merely as a convenience to the Admiralty."

"Why would they do that sir?"

"To avoid explaining to Federation officials that they do not know how one of their ships was destroyed. Though I recognized that their concerns were purely political, I was content to use them as an excuse to avoid telling you what had occurred."

"Spock…Aileen, you know that we trust you," Pike stated, looking first at him, then at Ms. Baeill. "Whatever you have to tell us, that's not going to change."

"Enough of this evasiveness sir," the Chief spoke up, looking at Spock. "I would very much appreciate that ye would simply trust us and say what ye have to say."

Spock nodded, then finished the rest of his hot chocolate, wishing he had thought to ask for another. Putting the mug aside, he began his account of the last minutes of Valiant in a clear steady monotone. Is was the manner of speech he greatly preferred, even if it was not reflective of his true feelings concerning what had taken place…

…_he shouted her name again, but heard no response. It was intolerable that he was trapped and powerless while his shipmates were in mortal peril. The violent movement of the ship abruptly ceased, and Spock listened carefully for any sound. There was another moan, louder this time, which was followed by retching noises and the smell of gastric regurgitation. Petty Officer Baeill was vomiting. _

"_Ms. Baeill," he shouted once more, alarmed at her distress. There was no answer at first, only an anguished cry followed by the sound of approaching footsteps._

"_Sir?! My God Commander," she finally responded, in a thin wavering voice. A moment later felt the touch of her hand upon his knee._

"_You're bleeding sir," she croaked, her voice cracking with emotion._

"_A fact I am well aware of Petty Officer," he retorted, trying to project a calm that he did not possess. "I am not seriously injured. Call damage control and inform them of our circumstances." _

"_Sorry sir, we don't have time for that," she interrupted in a less agitated voice. "Besides, it's not bloody likely that they'll be sending us any help. I know what those alarms mean."_

"_If you are cognizant of an alternative method that would free me now would be…Petty Officer, what are you doing?" Looking down his body, he could see her hands gripping the edge of the cabinet near his right leg. _

"_I order you to desist Aileen," he demanded, apprehensive of what she was about to attempt. While she was physically stronger then anyone on the ship excepting himself, he was highly doubtful that she could lift the weight that pinned him without suffering injury._

"_There isn't time to do anything else sir. Be ready to move. I won't be able to hold it up for long."_

_Before he could say anything more there was a loud grunt and the pressure on his legs was gone. With agonizing slowness the heavy metal prison moved upward several inches. Spock attempted to wriggle out, but there still wasn't enough clearance._

"_Fecking culchie son of a bitch!" She screamed, and the cabinet jerked up, giving him enough space to slide down and hold it up himself. With a groan she let go, then slipped a metal stool under the edge, allowing Spock squirm the rest of the way out. _

_As he had observed earlier, both of his legs were bleeding, and when he scrambled to a standing position, he experienced intense discomfort in his right leg. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the offending limb, and determined with a high degree of certainty that it was a hairline fracture of his femur. Petty Officer Baeill's condition appeared to problematic as well. The left side of her head was smeared with blood, which had dripped down to stain her uniform. She was still kneeling, with her forehead pressed against the cool metal of the cabinet, her eyes tightly closed. Wordlessly he extended his hand, brushing against her shoulder and with a nod she took it, and he pulled her up. His normally formidable mental shields were not adequate to the challenge of completely blocking the maelstrom of Ms. Baeill's emotional turmoil. _

_Faint impressions of confusion and pain seeped through the tenuous link that had formed the moment their hands clasped. There was also a powerful sense of relief that he was not seriously injured. A brief examination of her eyes, which were dilated and unfocused, confirmed what he already suspected. There was a high probability that Petty Officer Baeill had suffered a concussion. Carefully he guided her over to one of the work benches, ignoring the throbbing pain he felt with each step. _

_When she was seated, he did what little he could to treat her, cleaning the head wound and closing it with a thin strip of dermaplast. Then he sat next to her, rolling up his trousers to examine his own injury. While painful, the bleeding had nearly stopped. He decided to forgo treatment for himself. There was precious little time to deal with extraneous concerns. That ominous drone of the main drive vibrating through the Valiant's damaged hull was escalating in severity. He used the wall mounted intercom to hail Engineering, and received no reply._

_For the moment, Spock had no choice but to assume that there was no one available (or alive) who could deal with the situation. He turned his gaze on Petty Officer Baeill. Her condition did not appear to be promising. Her head was lowered nearly to her knees, with eyes tightly shut. Under ordinary circumstances she would be in sick bay, but that was not a viable option. He was in no position to dispense with her assistance. There were too many variables, too many difficulties he could not anticipate. He also knew from past experience that she had the will to continue on regardless of physical infirmity._

"_Petty Officer," he asked in a calm voice, "are you able to function?"_

_Her head jerked up and she nodded. "Yes sir. It's just a bump on my noggin. My head hurts like the devil, but I can make it."_

"_It is essential that we gain access to Engineering. That sound is a strong indication the warp engines or out of balance. There is very little time available to us."_

"_Well sir, there isn't a chance in hell that I won't be going with you!" She exclaimed, springing off the bench. _

"_Excellent. Please gather what equipment you can find Petty Officer." _

_He took a tricorder from one the lockers and activated it. There were nodes throughout the ship that could be used to establish a link with the main computer. He cycled through them without success. He was however, able to hack into the ship's sensor net, which provided some of the data he needed. One of the magnetic plasma conduits was no longer functional. This failure should have triggered a hard shutdown of the warp core, but that had obviously not occurred. Unless the situation was remedied, the energy build up would eventually lead to an uncontrolled matter/antimatter reaction. Petty Officer Baeill appeared before him with an arm load of equipment, which included two hazardous materials suits. He looked up at her, left eyebrow raised._

"_Not really as good as a rad suit, but they might keep us from glowing in the dark sir." _

_Quite logical under the present conditions. Hazardous levels of radiation on the Engineering deck were a distinct possibility. Working quickly, they donned the protective gear and split the equipment Ms. Baeill had procured. There was a pry bar, several spare power cells, and a phase torch, along with a bundle of cable that she had looped around her shoulder. They would check the Jeffries tube first._

_It was only a short walk from the their current position, which to his consternation Spock found difficult to complete. With every step, the sharp pain in his leg increased in intensity. Upon reaching their goal, he scanned the narrow tunnel with his tricorder and found that it was sealed at the other end. Further readings revealed that the deck below had lost all atmospheric pressure. Using the tricorder, he consulted the ships sensor net. While the turbo lifts were inoperable, the shafts could provide a possible means to reach their objective. Shaft number two was the closest. He relayed the information to Petty Officer Baeill and they started for the lift. He managed five steps before his leg buckled. Fortunately, she was close enough to restrain him from falling on his face._

"_When were you going to tell me about that leg sir?" She demanded, sliding an arm around his waist despite his protestation that it was not necessary. "Begging your pardon Commander, but if you don't want to be crawling to Engineering, I respectfully suggest that you shut your yap and grab my shoulder." Thanks to her strength and his agility, they were able to make their way to the lift doors with little loss of time. It was there that they found the first body._

_Petty Officer Jiang was lying on her back, the left side of her head covered with blood. While he reclined against a wall, Ms. Baeill checked for a pulse, then slowly shook her head. It was regrettable. Ms. Jiang had been nearly as skillful in the teaching of her native language as she had been in maintaining the ships food processors. She had been a exemplary shipmate. Taking up his PADD, he jacked into the lift controls and entered the emergency code. The doors slid slowly open, revealing the dark maw of the turbo shaft. There was a ladder used for maintenance located within a narrow recess just to the right of the door. He started to edge his way toward it, but Petty Officer Baeill grabbed his shoulder to stop him. _

"_Sir, your leg. I think it would be better if…"_

_A low rumbling suddenly emanated from above, followed moments later by a loud explosion. The turbo lift doors three decks above were blasted into the shaft, along other metallic debris and the dismembered remains of several crew members. They quickly recoiled from the opening to avoid the grotesque rain of wreckage. The ship shuddered violently, throwing them off balance, with Spock crashing into Baeill, knocking them both off their feet. As they hit the deck the Valiant began to list, tilting in the direction of the open shaft. Before either of them could react the angle became so severe that they found themselves sliding toward the open door. Reaching out with his right hand, he managed to hook his fingers around the beveled lip of the open doorway, while he kicked out with his legs, trying to block her from slipping past him and over edge. The resulting collision nearly caused him to lose his grip, and then she was rolling over his leg, grasping at anything she could lay hold of to keep from going down that dark hole. Just as she pushed his lower body over the edge, he snapped his legs together, trapping her between them, while twisting himself around, left arm grasping for the edge of the door. His body snapped taut, muscles rigid, the fingers of both hands bearing their combined weight, briefly stunned by the agony of his injured leg. For a long moment they hung in space, and then the tilt of the ship reversed itself slowly, rolling back to an even keel._

"_Climb over me!" Spock shouted into his mike. _

_A hand came up, grasping his hip, and with a loud grunt she pulled herself up, easing the pressure on his legs. Then it was up to his shoulder, followed quickly by a tight grip on his arm and she was over him, pulling him back to safety after her. Another explosion rocked the ship, this time from below. Glancing down the shaft, Spock could see flames dancing along the roof of a disabled turbo car three decks below, blocking any possibility of gaining access to Engineering. The only viable alternative was Auxiliary Control, which was located three levels up, on the same deck which had suffered an explosion of it's own less then a minute ago. Spock looked up and observed a fine white mist billowing out of the ragged rupture nearly forty meters up. A quick tricorder scan detected a mixture of plasma coolant and frozen carbon dioxide. Which meant…_

_ALERT! COOLANT FAILURE IN WARP CORE! ALERT! COOLANT FAILURE IN WARP CORE!_

_The warning claxon blared, and the rolling motion of the ship increase once in severity again. "Jesus bloody Christ," Baeill swore, looking down at the inferno below. "We've got to get to the fecking…"_

"_Engineering is no longer a possibility," he barked, cutting her off. "Auxiliary Control is our best alternative. We will be able to override the warp reactor from that location."_

"_That's plasma coolant sir!" She screamed, gesturing toward the milky white mist floating down from above. "Temperature minus 200 degrees Celsius. One of the conduits runs the length of that deck!"_

"_The ladder Petty Officer, time is a precious commodity," he ordered cutting her off, his voice devoid of inflection. _

_Hand over hand they scurried up the rungs toward their goal. The noise of the alarms and the repeating alert drowned out everything else. About half way up, they entered the white fog slowly creeping down the shaft. Spock immediately experienced a drastic loss of bodily warmth. While the hazardous materials suit offered protection from the corrosive effects of the plasma coolant, it was not well insulated. As he progressed, his hands lost sensation and his heart rate increased dramatically, an involuntary reaction of his Vulcan physiology to extreme cold. The ship's movements became so erratic, that at times they could scarcely climb. Spock became hyper sensitive to any indication of core failure, which was wholly illogical. In the event of such an occurrence, they would never know. _

_As they drew closer, his discomfort became acute. Hands and feet became numb, his chest burned with every breath. Ahead of him Ms. Baeill stopped, shouting to him that they were there. The gaping hole in the wall of the turbo shaft looming just above. She carefully found a safe hand hold amongst the jagged metal that fringed the opening and pulled herself in. He followed awkwardly, his limbs stiff and slow to respond. As he extended his arm a strong hand gripped his own, pulling him from the dark hole of the shaft into a wall of white fog._

_After a few steps they could scarcely see more then a foot in any direction. It was nearly impossible to navigate around the shattered remains of the deck. Broken panels from the walls and the floor were jumbled together, creating barriers that they had to climb over. Wires, conduits, and various fixture hung from the ceiling, forming a tangled mass that forced them to move in a crouch. Every step they took entailed the risk of damage to the suits, their only protection against contact with the toxic coolant. And above all these potentially deadly hazards, there was the cold. _

_His mind was fixated on the severity of it's debilitating impact. Heart hammering, beating at over twice the nominal rate, muscles cramping as they contracted, terrible pain in his chest and head from blood rushing to his liver and brain. Another twisted tangle of wreckage loomed out of the whiteness, blocking their way forward. He attacked the obstruction, clawing at the wreckage piled in front of him, his arms flailing uselessly. _

_ALERT! ALERT! ALERT! CORE BREACH IMMINENT! _

_The sound was deafening and inwardly he seethed over his failure. He started to slide back, but her hands were on him, holding him up. In a rage, she cursed in her native tongue, then in Standard and Klingonese for good measure. Spock was promptly shoved up and over the mound of debris, tumbling down the other side. There was a red light flashing ahead. Struggling to his knees, he crawls toward it. Her hand closed around one of his and she was pulling him behind her the last ten meters to crimson beacon. He came to a sudden stop, resting on his back, with no strength left in him. All he could do was stare as Baeill fumbled at the controls, her body shaking violently from the cold. After several seconds, she screamed, pounding on the door in her fury. The sound of her anguish jolts him from his deadly stupor. Plasma coolant. Sensors must have engaged the air lock to Auxiliary Control. One hand gropes for the tricorder, still strapped to his side. Fingers unfeeling from the cold trace the display and then he closes his eyes and slowly taps out the code from memory. _

_The door slides open and she quickly hauled him in. The moment the room is sealed fans kick in, drawing the toxic coolant out of the tiny room. After a long thirty seconds, the inner door opened and she half carried, half dragged him into Auxiliary Control. There are several shapes he can discern lying near the door. He thinks they might be bodies, but due to the condensation forming on his face shield, he cannot be sure._

"_Sir! Please answer me! I cannot do this without you! Mr. Spock!"_

"_My helmet," he croaked, "remove it."_

"_No sir! I don't think the air is safe yet."_

_Almost certainly true, but irrelevant. He needed warmth, and he needed to see. "That was not a request Petty Officer," he ordered, in a firm voice. _

_After a second, she fumbled at the latch and cracked it off him. The heat on his skin was almost painful, or perhaps it was trace amounts of plasma coolant that still lingered. He could certainly smell it, a vile odor that nothing natural could be compared to. He would have to work quickly. Even at residual levels, it would rapidly incapacitate him. Bleary eyed and dizzy, he scans the room until he finds what he needs. Much of the main systems control panel was inoperative, but fortunately the warp coolant system still functioned. A glance at the temperature indicator tells him all he needs to know. Their time has nearly run out._

"_Ms. Baeill, as my hands are not functional, I require your assistance to manipulate the controls." She nodded slowly, licking her lips. "Shut down coolant conduit one and increase pressure to the rest of the system by one hundred and twenty-five percent."_

_For a moment she hesitated, then with a small shake of her head her hands flew to the controls. When she was finished, they can do nothing but watch. For several seconds the numbers keep rising. She turned to look at him and when their eyes locked he felt the need to apologize. Instead, he simply nods, and they wait in silence, feeling more exhausted then anything else when the increase in temperature slows, and finally stops. _

"_Switch to circuit B," he ordered, and when she does more of the board lights up. "Cycle through the screens." _

_The data flashed before him and his mind drinks it in, calculating their options. They were not promising. Even with the temperature of the warp core stabilized, it was still generating prodigious amounts energy. With one magnetic plasma conduit not operational and the other barely operational, that power had no outlet. An engine systems failure of this magnitude should have shut down the warp core. For reasons unknown, this had not occurred, which has left him with only one alternative. Eject the warp core. He heard the panel chime which indicated an incoming message. He glanced at Baeill and she shook her head._

"_Incoming message…from Engineering." The shock in her voice was clearly audible, even through the tiny speaker on her Haz Mat suit. He nodded and she flick a switch._

"_This is MacPherson in Engineering. Can anyone here me up there?"_

"_Spock here," he responded, after stifling a cough. "What is your situation Commander?" Ms. Baeill made a motion with her hand, and the vid screen above their counsel brightened, displaying a fuzzy washed out figure of someone in a radiation suit._

"_Our situation?" He retorted, his voice rising. "Why don't you take a good look at our damned situation?"_

_The camera slowly panned back, bringing the Engine Room into full view. Several bulkheads were deformed, and a section of the floor had buckled. The very air in the room seemed to glow with an eerie greenish light, which combined with the smoke and other gases spewing from damaged display counsels to obscure much of the view. There were a dozen other crew, also in rad suits, either clustered around the Commander or the few instruments that still functioned. Behind this group, Spock could see the transparent aluminum bulkhead that separated Engineering from the power flow glowing a sickly bluish-green. In the far corner Spock could make out several bodies piled together._

"_I take it you are responsible for stabilizing the temperature," MacPherson continued on after a few seconds._

"_Affirmative." _

"_Well I do thank you for that," the other man said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Unfortunately, you have just delayed the inevitable."_

"_Commander, is it possible for you to restore impulse power?" _

"_It's a hopeless pile of slag."_

"_Are you certain?"_

"_He asked me if I'm certain," the engineer barked back. "I sent my best fusion man into the impulse reactor," he went on in a voice full of emotion. "He was wearing a rad suit, _

_and he didn't last thirty seconds."_

_A sudden fit of coughing wracked Spock's body. When he looked at the hand that he had used to cover his mouth, there were splotches of green on it. While feeling was slowly returning to his extremities, he found it increasingly difficult to draw breath._

_WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! ANTI-MATTER CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT! INITIATE CORE EJECTION IMMEDIATELY!_

_Spock nodded to Baeill, then turned to MacPherson. "Commander, secure your people as best you can. I will…"_

"_NO SPOCK!" The other man shouted, waving his arms frantically. "Without impulse or warp drive, we canna get clear before the damned core blows!"_

"_I estimate less then one per cent chance success. I am open to alternative suggestions. However, you had best make them quickly."_

"_A controlled shutdown of the core. Bleed the excess energy through the impulse plasma coils, then cut off the stream of anti-matter. It's the only way."_

_It was an elegant solution. If the sequence were properly computed, the magnetic field could be contracted, squeezing the energy build up into a narrow stream that would be directed through the impulse plasma coils and vented into space. Spock quickly did the calculations in his head. All the variables fell into place, with one glaring exception._

"_Commander, there will be .0962 percent residual energy remaining when the magnetic field collapses." _

"_Don't ya know I already figured that one out Spock."_

"_Can you evacuate?"_

"_If I could, we'd already be gone," he snapped. He said something on another channel that Spock couldn't make out. "Two o' my kids are cutting through the outer airlock door. Should take maybe five minutes."_

_It was hopeless. The ship had perhaps ninety seconds, barely enough time for him to verify the calculations. "Commander…," he began, but the older man cut him off._

"_Laddie…you know what it is that has to be done. I suggest that you get to it."_

"_No!" Baeill shouted, very aware of what they were discussing. "Mr. Spock…Mr. Mac, there has to be…we just can't kill them…" _

"_Aileen…Aileen Baeill?" The engineer inquired gently._

"_Yes sir," she answered softly, in a voice filled with emotion._

"_Please girl, no more of that nonsense. Call me Angus."_

"_Angus…please, there has to be another way."_

"_Too right there is Allie, and it's a damned shame that there isn't the time to think of it." _

_Petty Officer Baeill bowed her head, crying softly. On the screen, they could see the rest of MacPherson's engineers gathering around him. The Commander closed the channel, so that he could say something to them privately. When he came back online, Spock was ready. _

"_Spock… Aileen, I'm sorry that you must do this. If there was any way…"_

"_I understand Angus," the Vulcan answered. "I salute you and your crew. You will be remembered."_

_Another fit of coughing took hold, leaving him doubled over and spitting blood on the floor. Ms. Baeill started to leave the her station, but he stopped her with a gesture. Then in a ragged voice he relayed the sequence of commands for her to input, saving only the last for himself. When she finished he told her to stand back. Then he painfully entered the last command with his own hand._

_For several seconds nothing happened. Then the Valiant began to vibrate, an almost imperceptible movement that rapidly escalated until they could only remain standing by holding onto the control counsel. A low rumbling emanated from deep inside the vessel, followed by the high pitch whine that grew in volume until nothing else could be heard. Spock tried to monitor the sensors, but after several loud popping sounds the screens went blank and they lost contact with Engineering. She tapped his shoulder pointing toward to an alcove near the door leading out of Auxiliary Control. He nodded, and they staggered toward it, with Spock leaning on her arm for support. They had gone almost half the distance when the ship lurched upward, sending them both tumbling through the air to slam into a nearby wall. He heard a groan from Ms. Baeill and tried to turn his head to observe her, but his body refused to cooperate. There was a roar like thunder, followed by another vicious jerk and then the ship was still. _

_With a supreme act of will, he managed to roll over. She was less then five feet way, her body crumpled against the wall. He called her name, but his voice came out a whisper the even he could barely hear. With agonizing slowness, he pulled his body across the deck until he was next to her. Laying his head on her chest, he could feel the slight rise and fall that signified respiration. It was enough. _

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading this. Please let me know how I'm doing, for better or worse. I enjoy hearing from you.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: A Different Tack

His accounting of the Valiant's final minutes, while factually accurate, could not convey the anguish of those memories. Even so, what he had said was more traumatic for his audience then Spock had expected. What for him was a narration of events that he had already lived through, was for his friends a painful revelation. The end of his description found Chief Floinn hugging her softly crying niece as she struggled to master her own strong emotions. Captain Pike stared straight ahead, shoulders slumped, profound grief engraved on his face. And he had no doubt that underneath it all was guilt as well. Pike had already implied that he believed himself at fault for leaving his command to take on the new responsibility of the Enterprise. Humans called it second guessing. It was something he had become familiar with.

"Thank you Commander," Chief Floinn whispered, breaking the silence which descended after Spock had finished. "I have no doubt that it was painful for ye to tell us of this, as it was for me to hear of it."

"Spock…Aileen…God I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Pike said, in a rough voice.

"Sir, as I have stated before, your duty called you else where. In point of fact, it was your insistence on rigorous and repeated emergency drills while you were Captain that contributed to our comparatively small loss of life.

"That's kind of you to say…"

"Captain Pike, I do not make statements of fact in order to project kindness."

"Begging your pardon sir," Baeill said in a quiet voice, "but if you had been aboard, you would likely have been killed along with the rest of the bridge crew. I don't see how that would have helped us at all."

"Shit…all of them? Damn it, those names were not on that list you gave me Spock! What the hell happened?"

"All that can be said with certainty is at some point the bridge was sheared away from the Valiant's hull," Spock answered. "All those stationed there are still officially listed as missing in action."

"Missing?!" Pike yelled, springing up from his chair and running his hands over his face. "Are you kidding me? You were in subspace, under warp speed! What the hell do you think happened to them?!"

"Christopher!" Chief Floinn barked, standing to face him. "I know that ye are sick over what happened, because I most certainly am as well. I know the anger you feel, but it has no place here."

For a moment Pike loomed over her, then he stumbled back into his chair, head in his hands. "Sorry. I guess being pissed off is easier then anything else."

"I know sir," Floinn answered sadly, putting her hand on his shoulder. Then she turned to look at Spock. "Do ye know what was the cause of this Commander?"

"Not with any certainty Chief. There are indications of a gravimetric anomaly. Two of the Valiant's inertia compensators were rendered inoperable. The other six were badly degraded."

"Christ," Pike muttered, looking up at the Vulcan. "Two of the them?"

"Indeed Captain. Considering the severity of the damage inflicted, only random chance allowed for our survival."

"No Spock, not just luck," Pike replied. "There were also two dedicated, courageous people, determined to save their shipmates whatever the personal cost."

"Captain, I am certain I speak for Petty Officer Baeill when I say that we both desire that our roles be minimized with regards to what happen on the Valiant."

"He's right Captain," Baeill agreed emphatically. "Commander Mac and the Engineering crew did everything they could to save they ship. They're the real heroes."

"You don't have to worry Ms. Baeill. They will be remembered. But with all due respect, you and Mr. Spock are heroes as well, so you might as well get used to the idea. After all, Starfleet likes it when they can hand out medals to…"

"NO SIR!" Baeill shouted jumping to her feet. "I will not have it! I will not take a medal for killing my own shipmates!" Dashing her arm across her eyes, she stumbled back into the bedroom slamming the door behind her.

"I must apologize for Aileen Captain," Chief Floinn said, breaking the long silence that followed. "She is still very distraught over what happened."

"No Chief, I'm the one who screwed up," Pike answered, shaking his head. "I should have kept my big mouth shut. You should go to her Chief."

She nodded, then turned to Spock. "When ye have some time Commander, I should like to speak with ye."

"I am of course at your disposal Chief." She nodded, then slipped into the bedroom.

"Captain," Spock began, after she was gone, "while I disagree with the manner in which she expressed herself, I most emphatically share Petty Officer Baeill's sentiment. If Starfleet offers an award of any kind, I will refuse it."

Pike sighed, his shoulders slumped. "Ok Spock, if that's what you want, I'll talk to Nogura about it."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence before Pike spoke again. "You do know that what happened to MacPherson and his crew wasn't your fault?"

"Fault Captain? I know that what occurred was necessary to prevent the greater loss of life that would have taken place had we not acted. However, there is no escaping the logic behind Ms. Baeill emotional statement."

"Damn it Spock, you just said it yourself. You had a duty to save as many of the crew as you could."

"A fact I do not dispute sir."

"Spock," Pike said softly, "they weren't going to make it no matter what you did."

"Indeed Captain." Spock replied, staring at the other man through unblinking eyes. "That does not alter the reality that fifteen of our shipmates died as a direct result of what we did."

"You did what they wanted. You saved the rest of the crew. Given the circumstances, it was the only logical choice."

"Forgive me Captain, if I apply a term many humans I know are quite fond of. What you are saying is steer manure in it's most undiluted form."

"Not even close Spock," the other man answered in a firm voice. "I've know for a long time that I can't bullshit you. You were in a situation that didn't give you any good choices, but you made the best one you could.

"If the decision was correct sir, why am I dismayed to have made it?"

"Just because it's the right one doesn't mean it's easy to make. Or to live with. If someone tells you otherwise, they're not fit for command."

"Perhaps Captain. However, the opposite may also be true. Any officer who considers such a choice intolerable would also be unfit for command."

Pike nodded, his eyes locked in with those of his Vulcan friend. "I wish I could tell you that this kind of situation won't come up again, but that _**would**_ be bullshit. As my first officer, you might have to make a choice like this again. When you get your own command, you can count on it."

"I am not on the command track sir."

Pike raised an eyebrow, in a fair imitation of Spock's familiar expression. "That's true for over half the Captains in the fleet. Besides, if I didn't think you could command a ship, I never would have offered you the job as First Officer of the Enterprise."

"Captain, while I am honored by the confidence you have expressed in me, I find I can no longer accept that position."

"Spock…you're not serious…"

"I am sir. It is as you said. If I continue in my present career track, inevitably another life or death decision will have to be made. I have resolved that being in such a circumstance again is intolerable. Therefore, I have requested to be taken off the active duty list, effective immediately."

"Damn it Spock, you agreed with everything I said!"

The Vulcan nodded, tilting his head to one side. "But not with your conclusion sir. While I would not change any of my actions, I have no desire to repeat them. This will ensure that outcome."

"Look Spock, I know you wouldn't make a decision like this without thinking it through. But that still doesn't make it the right one. You saved over three hundred of your shipmates. That's got to count for something."

"Captain, I am of course gratified that so many of the Valiant's crew survived through our efforts."

"But your still going to leave Starfleet."

"I have no intention of resigning my commission sir."

"You have…would you mind explaining to me what you are going to do?"

"Follow the example of my good friend and mentor, Captain Christopher Pike. I intend to join the staff of Starfleet Academy, beginning with the fall term."

Later, after he left Chief's Floinn domicile, he reflected on the vagaries of human emotion. While Chief Floinn had demonstrated an almost Vulcan restraint (no doubt for the sake of her niece), his mentor had grown ever more despondent in the course of his account. He understood this as a manifestation of the guilt Pike felt over the demise of his old command. Their conversation afterward appeared to unsettle him further, particularly when the Captain came to believe the Spock was leaving Starfleet. When Spock corrected the erroneous assumption, Pike was once more the optimistic, assertive, human he had served with.

He knew his former Captain better then any other human save his mother, and for Pike his commitment to teach at the Academy meant that there would be time and opportunity to convince him to reconsider his choice to leave active duty. This brought to mind his profound differences with Sarek, who refused to accept his own son's decision to enlist in Starfleet. Yet Captain Pike's obvious assumption that he had made the wrong choice did not engender the kind of anger his father's did. The human wanted what was best for his friend, and Spock believed that Pike would eventually come to accept his determination to withdraw from active duty. Sarek's pride would never allow for such a conclusion.

When he finally made his way back to his living quarters, he was chilled from the long walk through San Francisco's cool night air. The blast of heat when the door slid open to admit him was a welcome relief. Though it was after 0300, he donned his meditation robes, determined to face the disconcerting experiences of the last few days. He slowly settled into the second level trance, his mind free of the turmoil of reliving the worst thirty minutes of his life. Finally calm in the peace of logic, he was able to see the root motivation that lay behind his determination to withdraw from active duty. At the bottom of it all, there was fear.

Fear of taking life, even with good cause. Fear of failing his shipmates, by refusing to do so the next time he faced such a choice. Fear of the consequence that his every decision could have for others, both as Pike's executive officer and as a Captain in his own right. When he had entered the Academy, the notion that command would one day be a possibility was something he had not considered. Humans and Vulcans are too different for such an arrangement to be workable. It was only during his tour of duty on the Valiant that he had cause to reconsidered his view point. This change in mind was largely the result of his mentors influence.

From the beginning of their voyage, Pike had encouraged Spock not to limit himself as a Starfleet officer. Despite his good opinion of Captain Pike, he was highly dubious of the notion that a command of his own was a logical goal. Over time, and with gentle prodding from the Pike and Chief Floinn, Spock found himself becoming more receptive to the idea that perhaps a Captaincy would be a possibility in the (far) future. Human's had a word for this mode of thinking. The term was delusional.

Vulcans took great satisfaction in their reputation as hard headed realists of the first order. In this, Spock was no different then his kinsmen. As much as he had found fulfillment in his growing leadership role on the Valiant, his responsibilities encompassed a relatively narrow range of duties. Shipmates had died under his command, but not at his command. Until the disaster, he had not understood the difference. Now his misapprehension was laid bare, his fallacy fully exposed. Even more so as Captain then First Officer, he would have to make decisions that could likely cause injury or even death for those he was responsible for.

"Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear."

He could hear the voice of his father, as he slowly spoke those words to him when he was barely two years old. It was among the first of Surak's sayings that Spock had committed to memory, one that he had reason to think on often since. Along with anger, fear was the most dangerous of emotions, the origin of many of the darker urges of the Vulcan psyche. Spock had by necessity learned to live with his anger. He knew that he could not live with both. So he would cast out fear by removing himself from it's proximity. He gradually surfaced to consciousness, exhausted in both mind and body. Slumping down to the floor, he sighed. Just a few minutes.

When he awoke several hours later, he was lying on the floor of his apartment still dressed in his robes. The early morning light was streaming through a nearby window and the comm was chiming, indicating an incoming transmission. With a barely audible grunt, Spock arose from the floor and activated the device. The screen brightened, revealing a woman with pleasant features and light blond hair. She was wearing the uniform of an a Starfleet officer assigned to the Academy with the rank of Lieutenant Commander. A brief expression of surprise flashed across her face, then her mask of professionalism was back in place.

"Spock here," he intoned calmly, masking the irritation he felt.

"Good Morning Commander," the woman answered, identifying herself as Celia Robbins. "I am calling on behalf of Admiral Robert Barnett," she continued, after glancing down at his attire. "He wishes to discuss an urgent matter with you at your earliest convenience."

Interesting. Spock pondered what Admiral Barnett might want with him. It could hardly be a coincidence that he had stated a preference for the Academy as his next assignment 12.2 hours ago. He was also quite aware that when an Admiral expressed a desire to meet with you, your convenience was not an issue. However, his mother's impending arrival most definitely was. After assurances from Ms. Robbins that the meeting would be of limited duration, he agreed to a time of 0900.

Admiral Barnett was a most impressive individual. Several inches taller then Spock, his open demeanor was in stark contrast to the stiff, formal manner that he assumed in public. Perhaps this was a behavioral pattern that all Admirals were expected to demonstrate to the outside world. When they were seated and sipping the tea his assistant had prepared, he quickly revealed the nature of his problem. Somewhat unexpectedly, the dilemma involved Spock.

As the Admiral explained, the domestic fowls had returned to their lodging with regard to their investigation. Twenty-eight cadets faced various levels of discipline for using Starfleet's M-5 project as a tool to illegitimately improve their academic standing. Most were to be expelled, with the rest facing suspensions of six months to a year. In addition, Starfleet security had demanded that three professors from Computer Sciences be placed on paid academic leave pending a further inquiry into the security breech that Admiral Siu held them accountable for. When Spock expressed his dismay over the repercussions of his inquest, the other man wouldn't have it.

"You did your duty Commander. I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't want people without honor or discipline any where near a starship. We certainly don't need them at this Academy." Spock simply nodded, and after a few seconds Barnett went on. "This institution is in trouble Mr. Spock. Now I'll admit that all things being equal, I'd rather have another command assignment. But when Nogura explained the circumstances to me, I couldn't turn it down. I'm hoping that you feel the same way."

"Sir, I have already submitted a request to Personnel for a position with the Academy staff. However, I do not anticipate being available before the beginning of the fall term."

Barnett nodded, taking a sip of tea. "I read the report that you submitted to Admiral Nogura concerning the Valiant. I won't pretend to understand what you went through Commander, even though I have some experience surviving a similar tragedy myself. What I will say is that taking a few months off to deal with what happened didn't help me at all."

"Admiral, with all due respect, I have no need to further process what occurred. Rather my lack of availability is due to the fact that I am under orders from Admiral Nogura to investigate the circumstances regarding the loss of the USS Valiant."

Barnett took a deep breath, rubbing his chin. "When Siu told me the Academy would be short three Computer Science Professors, I asked my aides to compile a list of people who could replace them. You were at the top of the list Commander. I'm not asking you to do this because you're available, I'm asking because you're the best. You just say the word, and I can clear it with Heihachiro."

'Sir, you mentioned that you had faced a similar experience to my own."

"That's correct Commander," he answered abruptly. "When I was an Ensign," he continued in a softer voice, "it was my first deep space assignment. Scientific survey vessel, USS Tyco. We were caught up in a class nine ion storm."

"Then you are undoubtedly aware of Starfleet protocol concerning the survivors of such incidents sir."

"You mean the mandatory debrief with Psych?" At Spock's nod, the Admiral grimaced. "It was a damned lot of nonsense in my opinion. Telling you how you're going to feel and what you need to do to get back to normal. How the hell can you ever get back to normal after seeing most of your shipmates blown into space?!"

"Indeed. Most of what was offered in the way of advise was not applicable to a Vulcan and unappealing as well. However, there was one observation that I have found to be rather useful. It concerns what humans refer to as second guessing."

The Admiral started to respond, then signed and shook his head. "I'm very familiar with the term. Kept going over it again and again in my head, trying to figure out…what I could have done differently. It was stupid really. I was just a God damned Ensign."

"As it was explained to me sir, a feeling of responsibility is inevitable among survivors. Though it is not logical, I have found there is a certain truth to the notion."

"Spock, you did everything humanly…I mean…damn it, you did what you had to."

"And yet, the sense of responsibility remains sir. Of responsibility toward those who perished, as well as the survivors. This is why I must continue my investigation. Only when it is complete and all pertinent facts known will I consider the final duty that I owe to my shipmates to be discharged."

"All right Commander," Barnett said with a nod. "I may not agree with your choice, but I can understand it. Now I just have to figure how I'm going to fill that hole in Computer Sciences."

"Admiral, may I examine the list of courses for which you are lacking an instructor?"

Barnett handed him a PADD. At a glance, Spock could see the difficulty. He had no doubt that teachers could be found for the first and second year courses. However, finding an instructor for the two advanced A.I. programming classes on short notice would be difficult. In addition, there was also a position of academic advisor to students completing their senior thesis in A.I. programming. He touched the PADD, and a list of the eight thesis students appeared on the screen. One name in particular caught his attention. What was that saying that Chief Floinn disliked so intensely? What departs in a circular manner returns on the same trajectory? He briefly studied the curriculum for the other two classes, then returned the PADD.

"I believe I may have a solution to your problem sir. At least in regard to the artificial intelligence programming courses."

"Why don't you tell me what you have in mind Commander."

"I know several individuals retired from teaching, who would take satisfaction in the opportunity to share their expertise."

"Retired? Don't take this the wrong way Spock, but I'm not looking for just anyone to teach these classes."

"They are Vulcans Admiral. Though no longer active professionally, they are conversant with the latest theories and techniques of A.I. programming. In fact, one of them developed classroom materials that are still used to teach this subject at the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Aren't you asking a lot of these people? Even if they're retired, I can't see how they would be able to pull up stakes and move to Terra on less then a weeks notice."

"They already reside on Terra sir. There is a Vulcan retirement community in Southern California which they are associated with. I believe the location is referred to as Death Valley."

"A Vulcan retirement community in Death Valley." Barnett replied with a shake of his head. "Now I've heard everything."

"Indeed sir. Though they find the nights some what cool for there liking, living on Terra with it's lower gravitational attraction has a certain desirability to the elderly."

"If you think they would be interested, I would certainly like to talk with them."

"I would be pleased to furnish you with their names as well as an introduction Admiral. In addition, I believe that my schedule will allow sufficient time to serve as advisor to those students who are completing A.I. thesis work."

"Commander, I meant what I said. You don't have to do this."

"I believe that I do Admiral. Since the Valiant was destroyed, I have been fixated on the past. It is necessary to begin looking to the future as well."

**A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback. I'm always glad to hear from those who are enjoying the story. And questions and or concerns, please let me know. Please keep the comments. I really enjoy hearing from you all.**


	11. Chapter 11

Shipmates Chapter Eleven: Valuable Lessons

Muirne Floinn looked up from her PADD to see Doctor McCoy slowly slipping out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. She took a moment to simply enjoy the view. After all, if the man decided to show up at her door in tight black pants, along with the leather jacket and smart, pullover sweater, she could hardly be blamed for taking notice. Or thinking a few improper thoughts. It was **her **bedroom after all. The moment of reverie was quickly spoiled when McCoy turned and she saw the expression on his face. It was not a happy one. But also not the look of someone who was going to be delivering bad news. More like pissed off, she decided. Which was fine by her. Pissed off she was used to.

"Whatever in God's name were ye doing in there Doctor?"

"Taking care of my damned patient," he sputtered, his face red with anger. It wasn't right in her opinion, that a man should look so good when he was spitting mad.

"I would have thought ye were operating on the poor girl, ye were in there so long."

His eyes get so big, they looked to pop right out of his head. Then he laughed and plopped himself on the chair across the table from her, waving his finger through the air. "You're worse then she is," he grunted, jerking his head toward the door.

"How is Aileen Doctor?"

"Sleeping," he answered, in a tone of voice that told her he is very pleased with himself. She doesn't begrudge him the feeling.

"Thank ye dear man," she chirped with a smile. Moments later her frown is back. "How ever did ye do it?"

"When I examined Ms. Baeill last night, the main condition she appeared to be suffering from was a profound lack of sleep."

"That I do know Doctor," she nodded, "as she and I did talk about how she was feeling when we returned here."

"Did she tell you why?"

"No. I could not get that out of the girl. Though from what she did say, it sounded as if she feared to sleep."

"Yeah. That was my impression too. When I offered to give her a sedative, last night, she…well she didn't react well."

"Do ye know what was the cause of it?"

"I actually had a pretty good idea. Especially after Cadet Gaila told me she was on the Valiant."

She simply nodded, because she knew very well where this conversation was going. Had known since the Commander's revelations of last night what was probably wrong with her niece. As he would have said, it was only logical.

"Now I had to be sure that it wasn't physical," he went on, and there was something about the man that irritated her, despite how grand he was to look on. "After all it could have been a brain injury. So that first thing I did during the exam was to rule that out. As it turns out, she checked out fine, with no real issues regarding the blow to the head she suffered four weeks ago."

Chief Floinn abruptly stood up and took a coat out of her closet, with a sputtering McCoy trailing in her wake. "What the hell are you doing?"

With a sigh, she turned to face him. "I am tired of being here Doctor. And I am hungry. And I have no desire to talk about this with Aileen just behind that door. There is a very nice pub just across the street that serves excellent food."

"Chief, she's not going to wake up any time soon."

"So ye say Doctor. In any case there is no food here I wish to fix, so it will be my treat."

He grumbled about it, but goes with her any way, falling into a rant about how terrible the food was at the Academy. She smiled to herself, despite the growing vexation that he engenders within her. It isn't until they are seated in a booth near the back of the pub and place their orders, that she realizes why. The man has been nearly three years at the Academy and he still walks, talks, and acts like he is a civilian. Not that she is particularly surprised, as he has stubborn written all over him. Some what arrogant also, she decides, which is a common enough male failing. Still, she thinks he is a good man, one who takes his profession very seriously, even if he scoffs at everything else.

"So what I was going to tell you," he says, after finishing the stout he ordered, "was that.."

"…Aileen is afflicted with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," she finishes, enjoying the initial appearance of comical surprise, and even more the grudging respect that flashes across his face.

"Impressive Chief. I thought you didn't know why she couldn't sleep?"

"As I said before, I did not."

"Night terrors. Your niece has them nearly every night that she actually does sleep. So she avoids getting rest, and gets drunk when she can't stay awake."

"She said all that to you?" He nods with a small smile. "I am impressed Leonard. Aileen rarely says anything to the docs that does not involve obscenities."

"Oh, there were a few of those. That young woman is very inventive. Once I made it clear I wasn't going any where and that she couldn't intimidate me, she came around. Eventually."

"How did ye get her to take a sedative?"

"She didn't really need one, so I didn't offer. Instead, I gave her a drug that suppresses the dream impulse. Exhaustion did the rest."

"Don't look so smug Doctor," she chided, sitting back so the servitor could deposit their food in exactly the proper position. There was a few minutes of silence while they took the edge of their hunger, then McCoy blurted out a question around several french fries had had shoved into his mouth.

"How did you know Chief?"

"Please call me Muir," she asked, "and kindly stop speaking with food in your mouth."

"You sound like my ex-wife," he groused, around a big bite of his burger.

"I have served on starships over half me life Leonard," she retorted, ignoring his rudeness. "I know PTSD when I see it."

"Really? Because it wasn't all that obvious, at least to me. I haven't seen a lot of cases and I wasn't one hundred percent sure until she told me about the night terrors."

"I know my niece well Doctor. I suspected from the tone of her voice, and the look in her eyes. I will admit that I was not certain until last night, when I heard what befell her on the Valiant."

"She damned well wouldn't tell me a thing about what had her so spooked."

"She would not speak of it out loud even to me, so Commander Spock told the tale for her."

"That damned Vulcan? How the hell does he know?"

"Do ye not like Vulcans, Doctor?" She asked in a slow, deliberate voice.

"Not particularly. Don't want to admit to their emotions, like it's a crime for them to have them. Damned hypocrisy."

"And how do ye know this?"

"You mean about Vulcans having emotions?" At her nod he went on. "Because feelings are hard wired into their brains, the same way they are with us. You don't just turn something like that off because someone comes along and tells you it's a bad thing to have them." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "Look, I know what your probably thinking, but this isn't about them not being human. Don't care much for my fellow Terrans either."

"Ye are a misanthrope then, and not…

…xenophobic. Nope. They don't let xenophobes into Starfleet, even if they do need doctors."

"Ye are a strange man. Why ever should I let ye treat my niece if ye feel so?"

"That's different, damn it. She's my patient!"

"Really. Tis truly amazing that ye can dislike people in general, and yet care for those ye treat. A person would be sorely tempted to compare such control of what ye feel to that of a Vulcan."

"It's nothing like what those green blooded…"

"Enough of your nonsense," she hissed. "As one of my dearest friends is a Vulcan, I care not to hear more of your opinions of them."

"Ok," McCoy drawled, holding his hands up in front of him. "Sorry. As you probably already guessed, I have a big mouth. Sometimes it's big enough that I can stick both feet in."

She offered a weak smile, and they finished the meal in silence. Then he insisted on ordering drinks as a peace offering, and fell into telling stories about growing up in Georgia, which were funny enough, if not very revealing. She wanted to ask him why he had joined Starfleet. Most of the doctors came to the service straight out of medical school, but he seemed to her too old for that. She wondered why an established doctor would throw over everything to go chasing into space. After another round of stout, he made his excuses, and handed her a small plastic case.

"Give her one right before she goes to bed, for the next four or five nights. That should get her sleeping pattern where it needs to be."

"What then Doctor?"

"She needs see a counselor."

"What ever would a counselor do for her that ye cannot?"

"Damn it, I'm not a metal health professional."

"Aileen trusts ye Leonard. Otherwise she would not have agreed to this treatment."

"Those pills aren't a treatment Chief. Just a temporary fix. Ms. Baeill needs to talk to someone about what she went through. I don't think she's going to be willing to do that with me."

"I think ye are wrong. And I know my niece very well."

He shook his head and turned away. "Alright." He said finally, and then turned to look at her. "I'll come by tomorrow. But if I don't make any progress with her after three sessions, she goes to Medical."

"Thank ye Doctor. And your Bushmill will be waiting for ye."

"Damn. I forgot about that." He started to walk away, but stopped, turning to look at her. "Thanks for the meal Muir," he said, flashing a crooked grin. Then he strolled across the street and disappeared into the crowd.

She took a long detour to get back to her flat, thinking on the mystery that was Doctor Leonard McCoy. She had to admit he was very fine to look on, but not so pleasant at times to listen to. For someone who was so clearly intelligent to disparage Vulcans as he did was disturbing. In truth, she was more angry at herself then she was at him. She felt that she had let the Commander down by not tearing into McCoy for his ignorant opinions. Did the man even know any Vulcans? Of course, knowing a Vulcan was not exactly the same thing as knowing Mr. Spock, something she really had not understood when he first came on board the Valiant. Perhaps it was her own remembered disquiet from those first days serving with him that had caused her to let McCoy's remarks pass. In many ways, she had been ignorant as well.

All she could see when the Captain told her about the ship's newest officer were the difficulties. Her mood was certainly not improved by the manner in which Pike seemed to brush aside her concerns, the most important in her mind being how was a person who showed no outward reaction to anything supposed to command people who expected them. Her objection was only reinforced the first time they were in the same room, during the Captain's welcome aboard speech that he gave to all new crew members. Though Pike was very good at this sort of thing, she could detect no response at all from the young Vulcan to anything that was said. This should have been no surprise, but knowing a thing and experiencing it in real life were very different. When she noted his lack of reaction to Pike later, he just smiled and shook his head.

"_Well Chief, at least he didn't fall asleep. And I'll bet you he remembers everything I said. Almost feel sorry for the poor devil to have all that nonsense bouncing around in his head."_

"_I am so glad that ye take amusement_ _from my concerns, Captain."_

"_What am I supposed to do Chief, order him to twitch his facial muscles every few minutes?"_

"_It will be difficult for the crew to deal with sir. How are they to know what he is thinking when nothing of what is inside his head shows on his face?"_

"_What are you saying Chief?"_

"_How is he to give orders that will be taken seriously when he displays neither understanding nor feeling when he communicates?" _

_Pike took a long breath. "We're just going to have to help him out, I guess."_

"_We? Oh no my dear Captain. Ye knew my opinion on this matter and yet ye choose to ignore it. I am sure that with nearly forty green crew members to deal with, my plate will be very full. Deal with him yourself sir."_

_In truth, she hated fighting with the Captain, but he had no one but himself to blame for any problems that she was sure would come up. Bringing the Lieutenant on board without a well thought out plan to integrate him into the ship's company was foolishness. Muirne Floinn did not dislike Vulcans per se, and certainly not this one. What she truly objected to was the needless disruption that this particular Vulcan would bring to her well organized existence. She decided that the best way for her to handle this disruption was to keep her distance. Unfortunately, the Lieutenant had not been informed of her plans, so she should not have been at all surprised when she looked up from her stack of PADDs during the second week of their deployment to see him standing in doorway of her office._

"_May I help you Lieutenant?"_

_For several seconds, he simply stared at her, with dark unblinking eyes. "Chief, I have a …difficulty that I have been reliably informed that you could assist me with."_

"_And what would that be, sir?" She asked, surprised at the hesitation in his normally unemotional voice. And then she saw it. A minute crease that bisected his smooth forehead for one long moment. A slight widening of those dark, expressionless eyes. Lieutenant Spock was even more confused then she was; and so young. Up close she could see the bloom of him, that uncertainty behind the projected confidence which so many new officers used as a shield to obscure their insecurity. _

"_I am in need of a sparing partner Chief," he stated clearly, but with a voice that is just a tiny bit hesitant. "Master at Arms Ross suggested that I inquire as to your availability."_

_Floinn smiled inwardly, careful not to let it show on her face, because now she understood. She is near to a foot shorter and over a decade older, and he does not see how she could possibly serve. Yet Chief Ross has recommended her, and even a half hour in that man's company is enough to know that he takes such things very seriously. Now she does smile, glad to supply the fact that will explain the recommendation._

"_I am Hibernian Lieutenant," she offered, and this time his reaction, though subtle, was not hard to see. The minute relaxation of his arrow straight posture, accompanied by one slightly elevated eyebrow._

"_Interesting. It light of that fact, Chief Ross was most logical to have suggested you."_

_The admission pleased her. Unlike many new officers, the lieutenant had no qualms disclosing his lack of knowledge. Which brought another question to mind. _

"_Do ye know why Mr. Ross suggest me as your partner?"_

_There was a moments hesitation, then an almost imperceptible nod. "During a recent sparing session, Chief Ross noticed several flaws in my technique."_

"_Hah. Dumped ye on your rear, did he sir. Ross must be strutting about like the only rooster in a hen house."_

"_Indeed. Mr. Ross was quite pleased with himself. He believes that I have become sloppy," Spock answered, his mouth pronouncing that last word with evident distaste._

"_Sir, I do not think it should be me that ye come to for lessons in fighting." _

"_I do not believe that was Chief Ross's intent. Rather, he wishes me to engage with a partner who can give me a sprint for my currency."_

_She could not help herself, erupting in laughter that took several seconds to suppress. "I am sorry Lieutenant," she chuckled. "I mean no disrespect, but I do not think ye got that quite right."_

"_Undoubtedly you are correct. Standard has so many colloquialisms, that I despair of ever mastering their meaning."_

"_Sir?" She gently prodded, after a few seconds of silence.  
_

"_Perhaps I was mistaken Chief Floinn," he answered with a sudden air of formality. Then his shoulders hunched ever so slightly and he looked away. "I may very well have misunderstood Chief Ross' intent. There are times when I find my shipmates as inscrutable as the figures of speech they employ." _

_She remembered that feeling only to well. The sense of otherness, of not belonging. Although human, she came from a back water planet with a culture very different from that of Terra. Her first years in the fleet had been difficult because of those differences. Many of her shipmates had never bothered to look beyond her perceived strangeness. Now those memories shamed her once more, because however she had rationalized it, she had been set upon treating this man in the same way, as someone she could ignore._

"_Tis a thing that ye will grow accustomed to sir," she said, and Spock titled his head, staring at her intently. Suddenly she felt the urge to stand and walk, to put herself on an equal footing with this person who she abruptly realized had stood throughout their entire conversation out of respect for her._

"_Walk with me sir," she requests after standing up, and he follows her out the door. They walk through the busy corridor and Floinn is pleased that he is not one who feels a need to fill the silence. When the door opens to the Observation deck, she feels herself relax. _

"_Tis me favorite place on any ship," she said quietly. Even at warp, the smeared, drawn out light of the stars viewed in sub space is a source of endless beauty. Every time she comes, it is different. When he responds that he also finds the sight to be 'ascetically pleasing' she very much wants to give him a hug. Instead, with some effort, she turns to face him._

"_When I was new to the service, I often found it difficult to understand my shipmates. Hibernia is a very different place then most of the worlds of humanity. Survival is not something that we can ever assume. It makes for a very narrow range of possibilities, if ye remain there. Which was why so many of us leave as soon as we can. However, I have found this mindset to be very much what is needed to serve in space. Here the possibilities are endless, but survival also must never be assumed. Tis a way of thinking that must be trained into most humans. But I suspect that ye already have the way of it sir." _

"_You grant me far too much credit Chief. While expert in a number of areas, in this I am a mere novice. One who desires to learn all that I can from any who would be willing to instruct me."_

"_I had not thought that as a Vulcan ye would admit the chance that ye might learn from one of us sir." _

_He offered up something like a shrug. "There are those among my people who are fond of giving that impression. However, it is emphatically not the truth_. _One of the fundamental tenants of Vulcan belief is that learning has an intrinsic value, irrespective of the source or subject matter. There is no logic in denial of one's ignorance, or in refusal to learn from those who can relieve it."_

"_I very much doubt there is much ye are ignorant of sir. All that same, I would be honored to help ye in any way that I can. For instance, the so called sloppiness that Mr. Ross has named. I know what is the cause of it."_

"_Please specify."_

"_I know because we share a similar…difficulty sir. Most all of those I would spar with could not match me strength. So for fear of hurting them, I would hold back. Such habits do not make for a sound fighting technique."_

_Both of the Vulcan's eyebrows disappeared into his razor straight bangs. "Fascinating. I agree with your assessment Chief Floinn. What counsel would you give in order to correct this deficiency?"_

"_Of course ye need to continue to hold back, or ye will quickly run out of healthy people to spar with. But I found that when I pulled me punches, everything I did was slower, much less natural. That is what ye must guard against Lieutenant."_

"_An astute observation, yet not truly an answer to my dilemma."_

"_Working with Mr. Ross will help ye sir. There is also something that can I teach ye, if ye are interested in learning a new martial art. Tis known as boxing."_

"_Pugilism? Was not this so called sport banned on Terra at one time for it's barbarity?"_

"_Indeed it was sir. But never on Hibernia."_

"_Chief, I fail to see how we could participate without one or both of us suffering injury."_

"_Tis the wonders of technology sir. There is equipment that will allow ye to hit full out while protecting your partner." He said nothing, but that slight crease down his forehead was back. "Come on Lieutenant, give it a try. I promise to go easy on ye."_

"_Tomorrow, 0600. The main gym."_

_She nodded, and after murmuring a goodbye, Spock departed. She had not doubt that within a few weeks she would be regretting her offer. Even with the protection that kinetic absorption offered, full on blows at Vulcan strength would hurt. But until then, she would very much enjoy knocking the Lieutenant on his very fine backside._

She smiled at that memory as she punched the entry code to her apartment. It had taken her over three years to verify that observation with 'hard' evidence. In contrast, only a few weeks had past before they had developed a relationship founded on mutual respect, and with time a deep friendship as well. Which made what the Captain had told her last evening so hard to accept. Muirne Floinn had decided that the Enterprise was to be her last posting as a member of Starfleet, and she had been looking very much forward to spending it with her two favorite officers. Pike seemed to think the Commander would eventually change his mind, but she knew better. To Spock, this was a matter of principle, and she knew that when it came to that, he would be unbending. She would of course try to talk him around when the time was right, but only because she believed he would do the same, were their roles reversed.

A quick peak into the bedroom confirmed that Aileen is still sleeping. The relief she felt turned her mind to McCoy once more. She cannot deny that there is an attraction, at least on her part. It's a complication that she does not need. He is younger (but only by five or six years), obnoxious (but what man isn't), and due to be an officer in less then two years time (has she not yet learned her lesson in that regard). With a sigh, she switches the holo on for background noise, and then activates her PADD. For minutes she stares at the display, without actually see it. The holo drones on until she can no longer stomach the irritation, but as she reaches for the remote to shut it down, the announcer finally says something that catches her attention. The Lady Amanda Grayson, wife to Sarek, the Federation Ambassador, has arrived in San Francisco. Spock's mother was on Terra.

Lady Amanda had communicated with both her and Captain Pike a number of times on the Valiant, to inquire after her son; a fact that Spock carefully pretended not to be aware of. She was a friendly, if imperious woman, who simply would not take no for an answer when it came to Spock. Amanda assured both of them that she knew that space was hazardous, and that she didn't need her or the Captain to be informed of the dangers her son would face. Her husband had an excellent intelligence network, after all. She just wanted to know if Spock was happy. After that, Floinn looked forward to her calls, and they got on rather well. She had little doubt that while the Commander would discuss his decision with her, he would actually have to listen to his mother. Activating the comm, she place a call to the Vulcan Embassy.

**A/N: Thanks again to those who are following my story. Please hit that review button and tell me what you think. I hope you enjoyed the Chief's point of view. Next chapter will feature some Uhura and a little suspense, along with a surprise.**


	12. Chapter 12

Shipmates Chapter 12: Doctor's Orders

He observed the difference the moment she entered the dining room. Her carriage was imperious rather then regal, her expression firm and not formal, with her normally expressive mouth set in an angry thin line. As she swept toward him, students and Academy personnel seemed to recoil unconsciously, staring after the human woman robed in the formal attire of Vulcan nobility. Spock was of course familiar with his mother's many moods, having witnessed this particular state of mind on a number of occasions, invariably directed at his father. That such was not currently the state of affairs became obvious to him the moment their eyes met. That withering look that could send Sarek's assistants scurrying from a room was directed at him. Equally alarming was the realization that he did not know why.

When he had greeted her at San Francisco Interstellar Space Port she had hugged him fiercely, wiping tears from her eyes in a manner that would have embarrassed him only a few years ago. When she tentatively offered her hand, he grasped it with an eagerness that surprised her. Spock relaxed his mental shield fractionally, allowing the warm glow of her unconditional regard for him to filter through the tenuous link. This action was purely selfish on his part, having greatly missed the solace of a love he could accept from no one else. It also allowed him some insight into her state of mind, which was preoccupied with concern over his physical well being. Considering his father's communication that she was aware of the circumstances of the Valiant's destruction, Spock had been expecting her to be more focused on his emotional condition. A few indirect questions he posed while retrieving her luggage confirmed that she did not know all of the details concerning what he had experienced. While his mother was certainly aware that his actions had preserved many of his shipmates lives, she did not seem to be aware of how he had accomplished this.

With little hesitation he decided that he would not be the one to enlighten her. In retrospect he understood this to be a mistake, even before he learned it was the cause of her anger. During his childhood and adolescence, Amanda had been the one person that he could be sure would understand the feelings he struggled with. Even more important, for her they were not a sign of failure. It was not a perspective that he was comfortable with at the moment. Another strong motivation was the desire to simply appreciate her presence without the complication of having to go over the unpleasant details of what had occurred yet again. What he wanted right now was to simply be with her, a son enjoying the company of his mother.

He accepted her sympathy over his physical discomfort, knowing better then to try and deny what he could not hide from her. After she had fussed over his thinness and he had assured her of his returning health, he steered their conversation to happier times that they had shared in the past. Of course he remembered all the stories she recounted, but they gave pleasure nonetheless, because her memories were colored by her love. While the concept of human happiness was difficult for Spock to fully embrace, he decided it could not be too different from what he experienced when he was in her presence.

By the end of the evening, he had put to rest her worries, and she had distracted him from his. Even so, he was vaguely relieved that she had a full scheduled planned out for her during her brief stay on Terra, courtesy of the Vulcan Embassy. They agreed to have breakfast at the Academy so that he could fulfill a promise he had never been able to keep, by giving her a tour. When they parted she hugged him and kissed his cheek, and he experienced the guilt of keeping so much from her. Now that guilt surfaced once more, accompanied by the certainty that his mother had been enlightened as to the entire story of the Valiant. Reaching his location, she gracefully lowered herself into the chair across from him, sweeping the tray of food that he had prepared for her aside.

"I had a very informative talk with a mutual friend last night," she warned, her eyes narrowing in anger.

"Mother I..."

"Let me finish," she hissed, cutting him off. "You deliberately misled me. When I asked how you were, you told me you were fine. That isn't true, is it?"

Several responses came immediately to mind. Her inquiry had been about his physical condition, and concerning that he had been entirely truthful, telling her that he was nearly back to optimal fitness. As she had not inquired about his physiological health, he had seen no need to elaborate. However much she might wish it, he was not human, and therefore could not react to events as a human would. These thoughts were dismissed even as they had formed. Speaking them aloud would only serve to further inflame her anger. Moreover, hiding behind such statements was unworthy of their relationship.

"I ask forgiveness for having offended thee," he intoned in Vulcan, then went on to say the words she really wanted to hear. "I am sorry mother."

"Why did you hide this from me Spock?"

"I had not intended to. My expectation was that you had already been informed of all the details concerning what occurred on my ship. When I became aware that this was not so, it seemed best to allow certain events to go unmentioned."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I wished to enjoy the little time we had to spend together without the emotional turmoil which a discussion of my actions would entail."

"Who's emotional turmoil were you worried about, yours or mine?"

"Both," he answered emphatically. "While I know that my actions on the Valiant resulted in the preservation of many lives, I have not yet come to terms with how this was accomplished. Also, I did not wish to cause you pain."

"Spock, I love you, and that will never change. So of course your...distress is painful to me. But so is the fact that you kept this from me."

"As I already stated, it was an error on my part. In a message to me, father said that you were aware of the circumstances regarding the Valiant. I had not intended to deceive you on the matter."

"I know, it just happened. I already had this talk with your father last night, so he knows how I feel about this. He is unhappy with you by the way."

"Unhappy?"

"You know what I mean."

"What action of mine has perturbed him?"

"It's not about what happened on your ship," she answered immediately. "Sarek is proud of you, even if he doesn't admit to it. He's trying Spock, he really is. But you've got to meet him half way."

"Mother, I am not certain to what you are referring."

"The message he sent you. I know it wasn't an apology, and I don't think you should expect one. But it wouldn't have hurt you to simply thank him."

"I do not understand. I acknowledged his communication and requested his assistance in a personal matter in my reply."

"Well I don't think he received it. At least that's what he told me."

Then who had sent him the information concerning Petty Officer Baeill? Perhaps one of Sarek's aides had not bothered to inform his father of Spock's return message. "Do not distress yourself mother. I will send it again."

"Please do. You should ask his opinion of your new career choice. I'm sure you would find it...interesting."

"I fail to see what such a discussion would accomplish."

"Even Sarek can change his mind Spock. After all, he married me. You might be surprised at his opinion of your decision to teach at the Academy."

"I have no desire to seek father's judgment concerning this. Moreover, I am puzzled as to why you would think it appropriate, considering our long standing disagreement over what he considers my unfortunate career choice."

"Well I really think you should talk to someone about it, since it's wrong."

"Please clarify your statement."

"You didn't join Starfleet simply to teach at the Academy," she said, leaning forward in her chair. "We both know that teaching isn't really what you wanted then, and I don't think it what you want now. So what changed your mind?"

For several second, he was silent, regarding her openly sympathetic expression. "My experience on the Valiant, while rewarding, has convinced me that my expertise would be best utilized in pursuit of an academic career at the Academy."

"You loved your work on the Valiant."

"Loved mother?"

"Yes loved! I'm not going to apologize for...who are those people?"

He turned and followed her gaze to see four individuals in Starfleet security uniforms standing just inside the main entrance to the dining room. He recognized one of them as Lieutenant Graff, a member of Admiral Siu's staff. Apparently he was known to her as well, because she pointed in his direction and her entire group quickly moved toward them. He watched their approach with some trepidation. Contact with Starfleet security was rarely a pleasant experience. When they arrived, he stood to face them, observing his mother stand as well, after briefly slipping a hand inside her robes. Lieutenant Graff briefly glanced at Amanda, then snapped to attention as she faced Spock.

"What is your purpose here Lieutenant?" He asked, with a perfect lack of inflection.

"Admiral Siu would like to speak with you sir," she answered, in a tone of voice that conveyed no concern over his rank. "I have orders to escort you to him."

"What is it the Admiral wishes to discuss?"

"I am not at liberty to say, sir."

"Is Commander Spock in some kind of danger?" Amanda asked, in a firm voice.

"Danger ma'am?" Graff answered, her eyes darting from Spock to Amanda.

"Well there must be some kind of threat, otherwise why would you need four people as an escort?"

Graff's face took on the appearance of someone who had just taken a big bite out of a lemon. "No ma'am, there isn't any threat." Then she turned to Spock once more. "Please come with us sir," she repeated, with a hint of impatience in her voice.

"Then why would this Admiral Siu send four people to bring in one officer? That hardly makes sense to me." Amanda retorted, the authority of her tone contrasting with the warm smile she wore. The Lieutenant shook her head and snickered.

"Ma'am, I really wish you'd stay out of this. It's against the law to interfere with a Federation officer while in the performance of their duty."

"Then it's a good thing I have diplomatic immunity, isn't it Lieutenant?"

"Mother, I have no need for your intervention," Spock protested in Vulcan. "Please do not interfere."

"Then tell me what is going on," she retorted, in the same language.

"Beyond the stated fact the Admiral Sui requires my presence, I am not certain. In any event, since he is an Admiral, he need not explain himself to me."

"I am surprised that you acquiesce to this human's demands. His logic should be explained."

"As father demands of T'Pau that she explain her stipulations? As a Starfleet officer, I owe Admiral Sui the same degree of compliance."

"You may owe this person obedience, but I do not."

"Please mother. Your interference will only serve to complicate the situation. I do not require it." Turning to Graff, he nodded, switching back to Standard. "Let us be on our way Lieutenant."

Lady Amanda watched as they escorted her son out of the dining room. Escorted? To her eyes it looked like he was under arrest. As a small crowd of cadets who had gathered to watch began to disperse, two figures dressed in civilian garb separated themselves from the others and approached her. Both were men, of nearly the same average height and weight, who appeared to be in the early thirties. They stopped at a respectful distance and inclined their heads.

"I don't like this Leo," she murmured, still looking toward the door her son had gone through a few seconds ago.

"Should we intercept Lady Amanda?"

After a short silence, she shook her head. "No. Spock asked me not to interfere. For now you investigate. I want to know were they are taking him, and I want to know why."

"Of course ma'am. I shall inform S'Louk."

"I also want you to find Captain Christopher Pike for me. When he is located, I wish you to take me to him immediately."

* * *

"Do you know why you're here cadets?" Captain Christopher Pike asked, with an edge to his normally pleasant, even voice.

There was a slight shifting of weight amongst the four ramrod straight figures in front of his desk. Four pairs of eyes glanced from him to each other and then back again. Apparently they hadn't bothered to get their story straight. Naiveté was one of the many things Pike liked about Academy cadets. It was also one of the things he absolutely abhorred when in came to new crew members. It could get you killed. Even worse, it could get your shipmates killed as well. Finally, after clearing his throat, McCoy spoke.

"I guess we're here because of me, sir."

"That's a big part of it," Pike shot back, after shaking his head. "You were the instigator, and you're sure as hell old enough to know better. But each one of you are responsible for your own actions."

"Come on Captain Pike," Kirk responded with a grin, "It's only a rule. Didn't you ever break any rules when you were at the Academy?"

"Do you think this is some kind of joke Mr. Kirk?" Pike demanded, in a low voice.

"No sir, he does not," Uhura answered for him, her eyes fixed forward. "We understand that we are accountable to the Academy for our actions."

Pike abruptly stood up and walked around his desk, stopping when he was only inches away from Kirk's face. "Is she right Kirk?" He asked softly. "Are you ready to take something seriously, for a change?"

"I am sir," Kirk answered, after licking his lips. "I wasn't looking for trouble sir. None of us were."

"But you still managed to find some, didn't you Kirk? What the hell made any of you think going down there was a good idea?"

"I guess we didn't sir," Galia answered, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Think I mean. All we were trying to do was keep Lenny out of trouble.'

"We never really took the order seriously sir, and that was wrong," Uhura added. "We didn't set out to break any rules, but none of us thought we were doing anything wrong at the time. At least I didn't."

"We didn't think it was that big a deal sir," Galia admitted, looking down.

"Exactly. As cadets, you don't get to decide that. I'm going to drop this matter, because I know you understand that nothing like this is ever going to happen again. If it does, there will be consequences. You're among the very top cadets at the Academy, but I'll be damned if I'll ever let any of you near a starship if you can't learn to obey orders. Do we understand each other?"

"Sir yes sir," they chorused, eyes to the front once more.

"Dismissed," Pike replied, "except for you McCoy."

Kirk and Galia were quickly out the door, but Uhura lingered, hands twisted together. After taking a deep breath, she stepped past McCoy. "Sir, what's going on tomorrow?"

"I can't really tell you any thing about that Cadet."

"Captain Pike, I can't believe the first day of classes have been canceled just so we can hear a speech?!"

"It's important Ms. Uhura, otherwise Admiral Barnett wouldn't have ordered it."

"You must know what this is all about sir."

"I do. And I'm under orders not to say a thing. Sorry Cadet, you're just going to have to find out like everyone else, by hearing what the Admiral has to say. I suggest you pay careful attention to him. If you have any concerns afterward, come and talk to me about them."

"Thank you sir, I will." Then she shot a quick glance at McCoy and walked out.

Pike watched her go with a small shake of his head and a sigh, wishing he was twenty years younger. Then he walked past McCoy without saying a word and sat down at his desk. Sliding a PADD from a large stack, he activated it. A young woman appeared on the display, with dark blonde hair, clear blue eyes, her mouth a determined line across her face. Pike glanced at the personal information. Gail Martine was a second year cadet, majoring in Subspace Quantum Mechanics, who had never gotten anything but perfect marks until the ninety-four percent she was going to receive in her Spatial Statistics class. She had used the M-5 to change that grade to a perfect score. She was one of the twenty-six cadets who were identified has having used the AI computer to alter their grades. Most of the others were like her, cheating to maintain their position near the top of the academic pole. With a growing sense of anger, he cycled through the records, puzzled at how these cadets could think that what they had done could be acceptable. When McCoy cleared his throat after five minutes had past, Pike was ready for a fight.

"Excuse me Captain, is there a reason you wanted me to stay?"

"Yes," Pike retorted, eyes fixed on his PADD.

"Then I wish you'd tell me what it is..."

Pike was out of his chair and in McCoy's face so fast that the younger man visibly flinched. "I've had a belly full of you McCoy!" He barked, leaning in until they were almost nose to nose.

"What are you talking about? You don't even know me," McCoy stammered.

"The hell I don't," Pike roared, snatching a PADD off his desk. "Everything I need to know is right here in your personnel jacket. You've been nothing but a damned screw off ever since you got here! Drunk and disorderly a dozen times, insubordination, refusing to take required classes, missing curfew, missing mandatory conditioning sessions, refusing to obey the direct orders of your instructors..."

"Now wait just a damned..."

"Shut your mouth Cadet," Pike demanded, "you have nothing I want to hear right now. Your record says that you're a damned good Doctor, so I'm guessing the people that used to run this place gave you a free pass because of that. I have to wonder why the hell you're even here, since you don't seem to give a crap about actually becoming a Starfleet officer."

"The hell with you," McCoy shouted back, "I don't have to take this from you, or any one." He turned toward the door, but Pike slipped around him, blocking the way.

"Go ahead and run McCoy," Pike snarled. "Just make sure you keep going, because if you walk out that door, your finished here."

"What do you want from me Pike?" McCoy sputtered, his hands clenched into fists.

"You lead three of my cadets into a restricted area, just so you could have a fucking drink! What were you thinking?"

"I didn't ask them to go, damn it. They wouldn't leave me alone. What was I supposed to do?"

"Maybe think about someone besides yourself. Those kids wouldn't leave because they were worried about you. If you cared at all about them, you would have stayed out of the Dockyards."

"Look," McCoy muttered, turning away, "I didn't want to get them in any trouble. Hell, Kirk is the best friend I've got here."

"Friend? It's a funny thing about Kirk. I took a look at his records when I checked yours. He gets into his fair share of trouble, but most of the time it's when he's with you McCoy. I think he'd be better off if you weren't here."

"So you want me out of the Academy, is that it?"

"If I wanted you out, you'd already be gone."

"Then I'll ask you again. What do you want from me Captain?"

"Grow up damn it! Your instructor told me he's never worked with a better trauma surgeon. The problem is you're also supposed to be training to be a Starfleet officer, only you approach that like it's a joke. You can't defend yourself, you haven't made any progress in obtaining Away Team certification, and you skipped First Contact training. Right now I wouldn't have you on a starship as a sanitation technician."

McCoy shook his head and took a deep breath. "I don't know if I really want to be on a Starship."

It was only a few moments, but it seemed much longer before Pike tipped his head back and barked out his laughter. All McCoy could do was gape at the other man, who he had been pretty sure was going to take a swing at him for what he'd just said. When Pike finally stopped laughing, he ordered McCoy to sit down and had a pot of coffee brought in. Then he just sat back in his big leather chair, sipping his beverage and staring off into space for so long, that when he finally spoke McCoy almost jumped.

"Why join the Academy? With your credentials, Starfleet Medical would have hired you as a civilian. Hell they still would. You could do research, teach, maybe even land a spot as some Admiral's personal physician."

"I don't want to be a medical gopher for some jackass," McCoy growled, gulping down his coffee. "Research would be interesting, but I didn't become a doctor to just hunker down in a lab. I want to treat patients."

"And Starfleet doesn't pay a 100,000 credit bonus to civilian researchers, or civilian doctors."

"No...no they don't. Look Captain, I didn't just sign up for that bonus, but I did need the money. My divorce...it wasn't pretty. All my assets were tied up in my practice and I was in hock to a lot of people, including my soon to be ex-wife."

"So the money came in pretty handy," Pike remarked, leaning forward, "and if you quit the Academy, you'd have to pay it back. If I toss you out, you get to keep it."

"Damn it, I don't want that!"

"Sure looks that way to me McCoy. You needed that money, but you don't want to be on a Starship. And from what I've seen of your academic record, there's no way you'll ever end up on one. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"It's not...this is going to sound really stupid, but it's not being on a ship that really bothers me. I just don't like the idea of space travel."

"You're right," Pike grinned, "it does sound stupid."

"And flying through a vacuum full of radiation inside a big can at hyper light speed isn't? It's a damned dangerous thing to do, and you know it."

"Can't argue with you there Doc. It's also what you signed up for. I guess the question is, do you really want to do it?"

"I just don't know. I think I could make a difference out there, help keep people alive and all that, but I just don't know."

Pike took a PADD from his desk and handed it to McCoy. "What's this?" The younger man asked.

"It's your new schedule."

"I can't do this," McCoy groaned after scanning through the list of extra classes.

"Who said you have a choice McCoy," Pike shot back. "Right now, it's the only way you're going to get back on track."

"What if I decide I don't want to be on a starship?"

"Fleet can ship you off to a starbase for your six year hitch. You'll still need the same credentials, so you got a lot of catching up to do, any way you look at it."

"A starbase? Sounds pretty damned boring to me."

"You'd be surprised, though according to Chief Floinn, it would be a tremendous waste of talent. She seems to think you'd be a great asset on a starship, once you figure out how to stop being an asshole."

"She said that?"

"Yeah. Except for the asshole part, that's on me. She doesn't impress easily, and she's usually better then I am at evaluating people. Though in your case, I'm not so sure. Any way, you really should thank her for this."

"Are you kidding?" McCoy grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "For what? All this extra work you've signed me up for?"

"For still being at the Academy. Before I talked to Chief Floinn, I was going to toss your ass out McCoy."

"Well sir, I don't know that getting out of Starfleet would be all that bad right now."

"That wasn't going to happen. You would have gone to the fleet as a Medical Orderly, Third Class."

"Like hell I would have!"

"You should have read that term of enlistment document you signed more carefully Cadet. After the end of your second year, you officially joined Starfleet. That means that in an emergency, they can assign you to a ship. It also means that if you quit or get kicked out, they can assign you to the fleet as crew."

"Unbelievable. Christ Pike, you really are a son of a bitch, you know that."

"I'm a Captain, remember. So just make sure you thank the Chief tomorrow. Maybe she'll go easy on you."

"Go easy...now what?

"With this screwed up schedule of yours, I couldn't fit you into any of the available slots for the self defense training that you need to take. Chief Floinn said she'd be happy to help you out with that."

"Well, tell her not to go to any trouble on my account sir."

"I actually think she likes the idea of kicking your ass on a regular basis McCoy. Hell, I'd do it myself, if I had the time."

"Damn it, I'm a doctor, not a..."

The office door slid open and a beautiful woman dressed in a silver-gray gown and matching cloak marched into the room, trailed by three men, one of whom was the largest Vulcan that Pike had ever seen. Bringing up the rear, was his very flustered aid. The moment he recognized her, Pike shot to his feet, and McCoy slowly followed after the Captain glared at him.

"Lady Amanda, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"I require your assistance Captain Pike," she demanded imperiously.

"Of course," Pike stammered, taken aback by the anger in her voice. "I would be honored to assist you in any way I can."

"Your Starfleet has taken my son from me. I demand that you return him immediately."

**A/n: Thanks to all of you who reviewed. I really enjoy the feedback, so come on and take a few moments and tell me what you think, good or bad. Thanks for reading.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Computational Conundrum

"You have not answered my question Admiral Nogura," Lady Amanda Grayson stated, in a tone of voice the reminded Pike of his favorite high school teacher responding to one of her slower charges. "I asked you why Spock was detained by four members of your Starfleet, not the state of his current condition. Although one wonders how you could possibly know that he is fine, since you were not aware of his current situation until I informed you of it."

Pike fought the grin that threatened to break out at the sight before him, something he never imagined he'd get to see for himself. Heichachrio Nogura standing in front of his own desk, squirming under an interrogation that could not be avoided. Pike had seen many other people (including himself) put in the same position by Nogura, so he could appreciate the irony of the situation. Still, he had too much respect for the man not to feel a little sorry for him. After all, he'd been in the same situation himself a little over an hour ago, when Spock's mother had burst into his office and began asking questions that Pike had no answers for. At the time, his suggestion of going to Nogura had been a matter of self preservation, but now he wasn't too sure how wise he had been. The Admiral, in his experience, had a long memory.

"As I said before Lady Amanda, I'm sure there is a good explanation what happened."

"How can you possibly be sure of that Admiral, since by your own admission, this Admiral Sui did not see fit to inform you of his interest in my son."

The silence stretched out as Nogura stared at the woman seated behind his desk. Finally, Nogura took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. "I know Admiral Sui. He never does anything without good reason."

"Am I supposed to be reassured by this Admiral, because I can tell you I am most definitely not."

"Lady Amanda I..."

The office door slid open, and the enormous Vulcan that Lady Amanda had introduced to Pike as S'Louk, her personal body guard, filled the doorway. His long strides quickly brought him to her side, where he went to one knee and whispered into her ear.

"Thank you S'Louk," she said with a smile after he had risen to stand by her side. When she focused her attention on the man standing before her, that smile was gone. "Admiral, what is the M-5 project?"

"It's a code name for an ongoing program to produce a true artificial intelligence computer," Nogura replied with a grimace.

"This so called project is housed within the Starfleet Computer Research Center on Treasure Island, is it not?"

"Yes ma'am, although I don't understand what this has to do with Commander Spock. As far as I know, he is not associated with the M-5 project."

"Then why did your Admiral Sui take him there?"

"There must be some mistake Lady Amanda."

The music of her laughter briefly sounded. "While I make more then my share of mistakes, S'Louk is never wrong. Spock is there Admiral, which considering the circumstances, is really quite fortunate for you."

"I'm sorry, but I don't follow you Lady Amanda."

"One would assume that as a top ranking Admiral, it would be a simple matter for you to confirm that a Starfleet officer is present at a Starfleet facility."

"I wish things were as simple as that ma'am."

"Really Admiral, I don't see the difficulty," she shot back, the light tone of her voice contrasting with her hard gaze. "All I ask is a few minutes conversation with my son. Think of it as reassurance for a mother wrapped up in her foolish fears, if you wish. Just don't think of it as something you can ignore. I truly would detest bringing Secretary Carsons into what is most likely a silly misunderstanding."

"That will not be necessary Lady Amanda," Nogura affirmed, his face suddenly pale. "I'm sure that we can clear this up without involving the Secretary for Federation Defense."

"I certainly hope so," Amanda agreed, as she rose from Nogura's chair and came around the desk, offering her hand, which the Admiral eagerly took "I have a luncheon engagement with the wife of the Tellarite ambassador, followed by a long and boring discussion concerning trade issues. Please feel free to have my son contact me the moment he able to. It will be a welcome diversion."

"Of course Lady Amanda."

"I have every confidence in you Admiral Nogura. Don't disappoint me."

Pike watched her exit, followed closely by her Vulcan shadow. Then he waited for the inevitable explosion, which wasn't long in coming. "That God damned, paranoid, son of a bitch!" Nogura roared, his pale, nervous face suddenly dark with anger. His arm shot out, fingers stabbing at the comm unit on his desk. "Eulogio, patch me through to Sui. Use his private line if you need to, but get him on the comm now!" Shaking his head, the Admiral began to pace, muttering obscenities to himself. Pike had a number of questions he wanted to ask, but right now he decided they could wait until the other man calmed down. He didn't think Nogura could get angrier, until Eulogio informed his boss that Admiral Sui was not answering any of his communication devices.

"Bastard," Nogura spat, slamming a fist down on the desk, "keeping trying Eulogio," he ordered, then turned on Pike. "What the hell does Sui want with Spock?"

"It must have something to do with the M-5 project. Maybe he just wants to consult with Spock," Pike offered, then shook his head. "But why send his people? All he had to do was comm him."

"How did she find out about this Pike?"

"Lady Amanda told me she was having breakfast with Spock at the Academy dining hall when Sui's people came for him."

"And you offered your help?"

"She knows me sir. What the hell was I supposed to do? Besides, it's not exactly an easy thing to say no to the woman."

"No, it certainly isn't Chris. Come on, let's go."

"Exactly where are we going Admiral?"

"Treasure Island. We're going to find out what that son of a bitch is up to."

Spock was left alone in a small windowless room for fifty-three minutes and thirty-two seconds. There was a single door (which opened), a table and four chairs, with exactly enough space that he could walk ten feet before he was force to retrace his steps. They had taken his PADD and communicator, albeit in a polite manner. Which left him to ponder the possible reasons for his unusual summons, as well as what his mother's reaction would be. Deciding the former would be marginally more pleasant to think on, he attempted to deconstruct what possible motives Admiral Sui would have for sending four of his operatives to remove him to the Starfleet Computer Research Center. The M-5 project came immediately to mind as the most likely possible answer to his query, even if he could see no logic in it. Admiral Sui was well aware of Spock's keen interest in renewing a dialogue with computer, as well as his willingness to be of assistance in whatever manner requested. He had in fact expected some kind of contact with the security chief, even if this was not precisely what he had in mind. Any further thoughts on the topic were rendered moot as the door slid open and Admiral Sui entered, accompanied by Lieutenant Graff.

"Commander Spock, thank you for coming on such short notice."

"I was not aware that a choice was available to me, Admiral Sui," he replied, with a raised eyebrow.

"Quite so," Sui answered with a slight nod of his head. "Please be seated," he went on, "hopefully this won't take long."

The two males proceeded to arrange themselves around the table, with Lieutenant Graff standing by the door. Sui produced a PADD from a faux leather attaché, which he carefully set on the table. Then he folded his hands, he looked directly at Spock and smiled. The Admiral was in outward appearance an unremarkable man. Short and spare, dressed in an immaculate uniform which was without insignia of rank, he gave the appearance of a fussy, disinterested bureaucrat. Only his eyes gave him away. Hooded and wary, they were relentless in their focus.

"No questions Commander? Aren't you the least bit curious as to why you are here?" He asked, his tone almost playful, after leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table.

"Any such inquiry on my part would be superfluous sir, as I believe you are about to inform me of the reason for my presence at this establishment."

"Of course. Commander, you have a problem."

"Interesting. There is a certain symmetry to this situation sir. We each appear to have difficulties that the other is unaware of."

"Whatever are you talking about Mr. Spock?"

"When your associates accosted me, I was not alone sir."

Sui glanced back at Graff, who shrugged. "The Commander was with a civilian sir. She wasn't very happy that we wanted Commander Spock to come with us, but she didn't make any trouble."

"That you are yet aware of Ms. Graff," Spock corrected.

"And who was this trouble making person, Mr. Spock?"

"My mother Admiral."

Sui muttered an epitaph, then turned on Graff. "Why couldn't you have waited until he was alone?"

"Excuse me sir, but you ordered me to bring him right away."

"Go warn Higgins. Tell him that he should be prepared for a visitor."

"And..." Graff prompted, in a tentative voice.

"If the Lady Amanda presents herself, show her the respect she is entitled to. Is that clear?" Graff nodded, exhaling with relief. "I suspect that the Commander and I will be finished shortly in any case."

Sui watched her go with a small shake of his head, then turned to Spock. "It seems that we have had a misunderstanding Commander. While the matter I wish to discuss with you is urgent, it was certainly not my intention to imply to Lieutenant Graff that you were to be given no choice as to the time of your arrival."

"An unfortunate failure of communication sir," Spock offered, with a minute shrug of his shoulders.

"Thank you for your understanding."

"Indeed. Admiral, precisely what is the urgent matter that Lieutenant Graff so badly misinterpreted?"

"It involves a message which was sent to you at 0023 hours on Friday morning."

Sui touched the screen of his PADD and to his astonishment, Spock heard the same message he had received two nights ago, a phrase in Vulcan which contained Petty Officer Baeill's last known location. At the time, he had assumed the message was a response to a request for assistance he had included in his answer to Sarek's own communication with him. In light of the conversation with his mother less then two hours ago, he had realized that this assumption was invalid. If Sarek had not provided him with the information, who had? More to the point, what concern was it of Starfleet?

"Admiral, may I ask what reason Starfleet Security would have for monitoring my communications?"

Sui shook his head. "We had no reason. This message was intercepted because the M-5 unit sent it, not because you received it."

"Fascinating."

"Yes. Isn't it. After the Academy debacle, every effort was made to prevent further unauthorized communication with the computer. Unfortunately, M-5 had other ideas. It managed to find a way through the firewall that Daystrom and his assistants tried to build around it."

"Why would M-5 seek to interfere with my personal communications sir?"

"We don't know Spock. Actually, we were hoping that you could shed some light on this."

"I regret to say I have no knowledge as to why M-5 would wish to communicate with me."

Sui nodded, sitting back in his chair. "Why don't we try this Spock. Give me the background behind these messages M-5 tampered with. How was it attempting to help you?"

In his best scientific voice, he related his concerns over Ms. Baeill whereabouts, explaining his request to Sarek and his impression that the message from M-5 was merely a response from his father. When the information proved to be accurate, providing him with Petty Officer Baeill's last known location, he had entertained no further thoughts on the matter. It was only this morning, in the course of a conversation with his mother, that he realized his father had neither received Spock's request nor sent a reply.

"And this is the only message that you have received from M-5?" Sui asked, his tone clearly doubtful.

"Indeed Admiral, it does strain credulity. I would suggest that the unit was monitoring my comm and impulsively decided to offer what assistance it could, without revealing itself. One could look at this development as yet more evidence of the singular achievement of the M-5 program."

"It all seems innocent enough," Sui mused when Spock had finished. "To be frank Spock, it was hard to believe that M-5 would do this without some kind of established rapport beyond your previous communication. Some of my colleagues are...suspicious. There was also the thought that perhaps there were other messages that we don't know about."

"An entirely logical conjecture Admiral, and as such, it is extremely difficult to disprove. Might I suggest that that the next logical step would be a pursuit of this line of inquiry with M-5. If that should not prove sufficient to allay any concerns as to what my involvement is, then I believe a Board of Inquiry would be called for."

"Thank you Commander for your willingness to take over the direction of this investigation," Sui remarked. "However, I don't think a Board of Inquiry will be needed."

"Admiral, unless you can assure me that any doubts your colleagues entertain regarding me will be put to rights, I shall have no choice but to insist. It is my right as a Starfleet officer to have these suspicions resolved."

"Let me rephrase Commander," Sui shot back, "there will be no Board of Inquiry. At the request of the project director Doctor Richard Daystrom, it has been decided that no information concerning the M-5 project is to be made public at this time."

"Sir, what purpose would be served with secrecy? The M-5 is an unprecedented accomplishment, one which must be brought to the attention of the scientific community. At the very least, there must be peer review of Doctor Daystrom's pioneering achievement."

"Spock," Sui answered softly, "I could order you to keep silent about this. Instead, I want to appeal to you as a scientist. You probably understand far better then I what this could mean for the Federation. However, the work is still incomplete. Doctor Daystrom and his associates deserve more time to perfect what they have done before their creation is ready to face the world. I want to give them that time."

"I have great respect for Richard Daystrom Admiral. If he is in need of more time to bring the M-5 project to what he considers a successful conclusion, that would certainly be his right. If this is indeed what Doctor Daystrom desires."

"Why would you believe otherwise Mr. Spock?"

Spock tilted his head slightly to his right, steepling his fingers. "Need I state the obvious Admiral? That some would view the M-5 as a decisive technological advantage, more so if this advantage were also kept secret."

Sui chuckled, shaking his head. "I won't deny that some people I know have expressed exactly that sentiment. But not myself Commander, and certainly not Doctor Daystrom."

"I am gratified to hear you say this sir. Secrecy never serves the cause of knowledge. If it were indeed your goal, I would be remiss in my duty both as a Starfleet officer and as a scientist if I failed to bring this to the attention of the scientific community."

"Just remember Commander," Sui retorted, with a distinct edge to his voice, "that we need to give the scientific community that is working on M-5 the opportunity to finish it's work."

The door slid open and Lieutenant Graff beckoned to Admiral Sui, who excused himself, leaving Spock alone to ponder their conversation. As Chief Floinn was prone to say when faced with a dubious situation, he detected the aroma of a rodent. This odor was strongest concerning the actions of Admiral Sui. Spock realized that he had made an error in disclosing the fact that his mother was aware of his predicament. What would the Admiral have done had he not known this? Until that point in their conversation, Spock was under the unspoken assumption that at the very least, he was going to be detained by Admiral Sui for some period of time. He was certain that when accosted by Lieutenant Graff, that his compliance in accompanying her had not been optional. These observations implied that the Admiral had altered his purpose only because of the knowledge that Amanda was aware of Spock's predicament, and could do something about it. If this was true, it begged the question of what his actual intentions were concerning the M-5 program. His thoughts were interrupted by Admiral Sui's return. Incredibly, he was escorting Admiral Nogura and Captain Pike. None of them seemed at all pleased to be in each others presence.

"Time to go Spock," Nogura called out in a aggressive tone. "Unless of course Admiral Sui has anything else he needs to say to you."

"Not at all Heihachiro," Sui responded with a smile, "the Commander and I have already finished our conversation."

"Thank you for a very stimulating discussion Admiral Sui," Spock added, taking the other man's cue. "I will remember everything you said."

"Of course you will. You're Vulcan." Sui then turned to go, nodding to Nogura. He was already past the door when Spock called out.

"Admiral, might it be possible for you to arrange a meeting between myself and Doctor Daystrom? I would very much like to discuss the most recent developments concerning the M-5. Off the record, of course."

Sui stopped dead, shoulders hunched, his back still facing Spock. "Of course," he answered quietly, after several seconds of silence. "I'll see what I can do. However, I'm sure that you can appreciate how busy Doctor Daystrom is right now."

"Thank you in advance for your efforts sir," Spock shot back, "regardless of success."

After several moments, Sui turned to face Spock, his expression indecipherable. "You're welcome Commander," he responded, then turned again and left, with several people, including Lieutenant Graff, trailing after him.

"Come on," Nogura, barked, striking off in a different direction from Sui. In view of the Admiral's obvious anger, nothing was said until they were outside the building, when Nogura's comm beeped. His put the device to his ear, listened for a few seconds, and snapped it closed with a curse.

"Sui wants to have a chat," he grunted in irritation. "Pike, you and Spock can take my hover car. Send it back for me. Apparently this is going to take awhile. Spock, make sure you call Lady Amanda as soon as you get back. Stay available. I'm going to want to talk to you when I'm done here."

Spock and Pike watched him go, then quickly entered the car, which shot off across San Francisco Bay. After a few minutes of silence, Spock could no longer contain his curiosity. "Captain, how did Admiral Nogura become involved in this?"

"Well, I guess it was my fault Spock. Or maybe your mother's."

"Sir?"

"Lady Amanda showed up at my office in a very bad mood. She seemed to believe that you'd been kidnapped by Starfleet, and from what she told me I didn't know what the hell to think. Since Admiral Sui was involved, I knew I couldn't really help her, so I suggested that we go see Nogura."

"The Admiral's reaction must have been quite interesting sir."

Pike let out a short, barking laugh, nodding vigorously. Just as quickly, his smile vanished. "What's going on Spock? What did Sui want?"

"I am not at all certain what Admiral Sui's motives are Captain, other that they involve the M-5 program, and his intention to keep it a secret."

In a low, quiet voice, Spock recounted how he was brought to Treasure Island, explaining that Sui's apparent suspicion was based on a message that M-5 had sent to Spock, which had informed him of Petty Officer Baeill's location. He finished by recounting his belief that were it not for his mother's knowledge of his predicament, that he would still be in Admiral Sui's custody. Pike said nothing at first. Instead, he just stared silently out the tinted window of the hover car until it rolled up to the Academy entrance.

"Why would the M-5 do that?" He finally asked. "And how did it know where Baeill was?"

"Unknown Captain. M-5 must have accessed numerous databases in order to learn of Ms. Baeill's location. As to motivation, your conjecture is as informed as mine."

"Damn," Pike whispered, his voice tinged with wonder, "it's learning. It hacked into the Starfleet communication network, which is supposed to be damned near impossible."

"Indeed Captain, it would be extremely difficult, even for me."

"And it's talking. Already figured out how to synthesize speech. And Vulcan, no less. Maybe that's what this is all about."

"Please explain sir."

"I wonder how much control they have over it. Think about it Spock. Sui obviously isn't happy that M-5 found a way to get in touch with you. I wonder what else it's doing that he doesn't like."

"Captain, the very notion of artificial intelligence implies a behavioral pattern that is not entirely predictable. To expect M-5 to function as a typical computer would be illogical."

"You're dealing with humans here Spock. I'll bet Daystrom anticipated this, but it looks like Sui is calling the shots now, and it's likely that everything M-5 does is a surprise to him. And not a pleasant one."

"I had not considered the emotional ramifications of this sir. Would this be a sufficient motivation for keeping the M-5 project classified?"

"Excellent question," Pike mused, rubbing his chin. "If Daystrom wasn't upfront about M-5's possible behavior, then yeah, Sui could be embarrassed about this. Damn it, we need more information."

The hover car slowed to a stop, and the door popped open. "This is where I get off," Pike grunted, sliding out of the vehicle. Then he leaned forward, thrusting his head and shoulders back into the car. "Be careful Spock. Sui isn't someone that you want mad at you."

"Indeed Captain."

With a quick nod of his head Pike was gone, weaving his way through a walkway crowded with cadets. A few minutes later, Spock was deposited at the entrance to his temporary quarters. Once inside, he placed a comm to his mother. She only had time for a brief conversation, but sounded very pleased that his difficulties (her word) had been resolved. They made arrangements to have breakfast the next day, this time at the Vulcan embassy. When she had signed off he left a message for a real-estate agent, requesting that he provide Spock with a list of apartments available that were in close proximity to the Academy. After sending off further messages to the Academy requesting office space, and to the eight cadets to whom he would serve as advisor, he prepared a light meal, which he had barely started to consume when his comm beeped. The message was from Admiral Nogura. Characteristically, is was short and to the point.

"My office, thirty minutes."

Twenty-nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds later found Spock snapping to attention in front of the Admiral's desk. On this occasion, no chair had been made available for his use. "Commander Spock, reporting as ordered sir," he stated, in a typical monotone.

Nogura stared at him for 15.27 seconds, brow furrowed, his mouth a thin line. "What the hell did you do to get Admiral Sui pissed off at you Commander?"

"Nothing that I am aware of, Admiral."

"Nothing?" Nogura spat out, "Nothing! Then I spent an hour and a half talking to him about nothing. That also means Sui wants you transferred to Jupiter Station as soon as possible, over nothing."

Nogura shot out of his chair and walked past Spock. For a considerable amount of time, he could hear the Admiral pacing back and forth behind him in carefully measured steps. When the older man finally halted, he was directly behind Spock.

"Thanks to you," Nogura hissed, inches from Spock's ear, "I've had to deal with the very angry wife of an important ambassador and the pissed off head of Starfleet security, all in the space of a few hours. You want to try that again Commander."

In a tone that was not quite as even as before, Spock recounted his conversation with Sui and the reason behind it. While he was speaking, Nogura walked around his desk and sat down again. When Spock was finished, the Admiral sat back in his chair, head tilted back and eyes closed for so long that Spock speculated as to whether he was asleep.

"What the hell is that bastard up to?" Nogura finally muttered, shaking his head. Then he straightened up, folded his hands together, and considered Spock. "Well Commander, what do you think is going on here?"

Spock related Captain Pike's speculations over how the M-5's behavior might have discomfited Admiral Sui. "I will admit sir," he added, "that I do not comprehend why Admiral Sui would experience chagrin for something he has little control over?"

"Sui has been angling to get more control over the M-5 project for over a year. That security snafu at the Academy gave him the opening he needed. If he can straighten things out, he's a hero, but if the computer doesn't work as advertised, he'll take the blame. Unless of course, he can pin it on someone else."

"How can Admiral Sui be assigned either blame or credit for something that he has done no actual work on?"

"Spock, you'd make a lousy bureaucrat."

"Why thank you Admiral."

"I think it's more then just concern over his reputation Commander. Sui is playing a deeper game then that, I'm sure of it. I should cut you out of this, but unfortunately I don't happen to know anyone else with a class seven computer rating, so I'm going to need your help."

"I would of course be willing to help in any way possible. However, being of assistance would be problematic from Jupiter Station."

Nogura laughed, shaking his head. "Don't worry Commander. You will go there when the Valiant is brought in, but only for as long as is needed to complete your investigation. No, you're going to help me figure out what he's up to, and you're going to do it as a member of my personal staff."

**A/N: Thank you to all who are reading this, and especially those who posted reviews. I very much enjoy hearing from you. So if you're enjoying the story, or even if you're not, please take a few minutes and let me know. For all who have been waiting so patiently, some major Uhura starting next chapter. **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: A Huge Heaping Pile...

She took the marble stairs two at a time, surging past gaggles of cadets and Academy personal as she made her way up. What was she doing? She'd been asking herself that question for that last twenty minutes. Throwing away your dream, a small voice inside her head warned, but she ignored it, pushing away that sliver of doubt that would paralyze her if stopped to consider it. Those last few steps seemed harder, her legs heavier, and by the time she had reached the top Noyota Uhura had to admit to herself she that she was afraid. The glass doors of the Archer Administrative Center loomed ahead, and rather then rush through she stepped to one side, away from the foot traffic, taking several deep breaths to try and calm her nerves.

This was the right thing to do, she told herself. Some of these cadets were her friends, and they all deserved a chance to answer for whatever it was they were accused of doing. It was just wrong to punish people without offering a reason for it. When she was seven years old, she had decided that when she grew up, she wanted to join Starfleet, like her uncle Tumaini. Since that day, Uhura had been progressively consumed with the effort it took to make that dream happen. Everything in her life had become secondary to her obsession with the stars. Now she was a few minutes away from confronting the man who would decide if she was good enough to be on the Enterprise. She swallowed the lump threatening to form in her throat. Did she even want to be part of something that could treat people the way Starfleet was treating some of her fellow cadets right now? Oh God yes. She'd do anything to get on that starship. Well, almost anything.

"What the hell am I supposed to say to her Chief?" Pike asked, his voice tight with anger.

Muirne Floinn sat in a fine, comfortable chair in the corner of Provost Christopher Pike's spacious office, watching silently as the man paced back and forth across the room, his feet clomping down on the fine carpet in angry, jerky strides. Floinn hadn't seen him so furious since she and Spock had nearly died on Ceti Omicron IV in the act of saving Pike's life. While grateful to be alive, he had hated the fact that they had disobeyed his direct order to do it. She couldn't help but grimace at that memory, even after three years.

"Damn it Floinn," he sputtered, "I asked you a question?"

"Seeing that this is not me problem Captain, why would ye think I had anything at all to say on the matter?"

Pike stopped dead, jerking his head around to stare at her. "I was thinking I could rely on my friend for advise. How stupid of me."

"Ye already know what ye must do sir. Follow the orders that ye have, and instruct this cadet to do likewise."

"Doesn't this bother you at all? Sui orders us to turn over anything having to do with the M-5 in the name of Federation security, and Nogura won't do a blasted thing about it? It's bullshit and you know it."

"Captain, ye know very well that Admiral Nogura will not accept this without a fight. They will have their pissing match and whoever comes out on top, all ye can do is avoid getting drenched."

"I need that information Chief. Sui promised me transcripts of the conversations between M-5 and the cadets who had their grades changed. The way things stand now it could be weeks before I get anything."

"What ever do ye need it for sir? Admiral Barnett has suspended all those suspected of cheating as punishment for their unauthorized communications with the device. I do not understand why ye are not satisfied with that."

"Because it's not right," he growled. "If these kids cheated they need to answer for it before an Honor Court in front of their peers."

"If? Excuse me Captain, but I don't recall ye having any doubts when last we spoke."

"Chief, I just want to be sure."

"We know that these cadets were in contact with the infernal machine, and that each one of them had their grades altered by it. What more do ye want sir?"

"I want the evidence that Sui promised me. Do you think that's too much to ask?"

"Captain, there are dozens of other cadets who conversed with it, and none of their records were affected in any way."

Pike stopped pacing and threw his hands up in frustration. "And none of those others are being singled out for this kind of punishment. That's not fair Chief. Besides, if they cheated, I don't want any of them coming back here."

"After a whole semester on suspension?" She asked, her tone incredulous. "A few might come crawling back, but with such a mark on their records, no Captain would have them on a ship. Let it go sir."

"Don't really have much of a choice, do I? Not when Sui, Nogura, and Barnett all seem to want this hushed up."

"No ye don't sir. When three admirals want a thing done, it is usually best not to stand in the way of it. What will ye tell the girl?"

"The same thing you just told me. Sometimes we have to follow orders, no matter how much they suck."

With a disgusted shake of his head, Pike stalked over to his desk. After taking a sip of his cold coffee with a grimace, he commed his aide, telling him to usher the cadet in. She was a beautiful girl, Floinn mused, who carried herself with an easy confidence that bordered on arrogance, considering where she was at the moment. Less then a dozen long legged strides found her in front of Pike's desk, back straight as a ruler, eyes to the front, her long brown hair done up in a pony tail. Maybe not so confident Floinn noticed, considering the slight tremor in her voice when she announced herself. Of course, that could be anger, rather then nerves. Or both she decided, observing the tightly clenched hands and the girl's rapid breathing.

"At ease Cadet," Pike intoned, in a soothing manner. "What can I do for you?"

"Thank you sir," she responded, posture unchanged. "I am here to ask about some of the things Admiral Barnett said in his speech yesterday. Specifically, his announcement concerning disciplinary action he was taking in regard to my fellow cadets."

Pike nodded, sitting back in his chair. "Go on Ms. Uhura."

"It just isn't right sir," she pronounced, standing stiffly exactly one foot in front of his desk, her eyes focused on a spot over his head. "Suspending twenty-eight cadets without giving a reason. How could Admiral Barnett think that this is fair? How could you sir?"

A soft snicker sounded to his left, and he glanced over at Chief Floinn, who was a picture of perfect innocence. He shot her his most intimidating look, but she just smiled. After a tiny shake of his head, Pike turned his attention to Cadet Noyota Uhura again. One thing for sure, the kid had guts. He wasn't at all surprised when she'd marched into the reception area and demanded a chance to talk with him. He had expected nothing less from her. The promise she had exhibited during that week long recruiting trip to Iowa had been fulfilled.

"Please sit down Cadet Uhura," Pike said, gesturing to the chair set off to the side of his desk.

"Sir, I..."

"Sit."

She hesitated for a few seconds, then sat down. Pike slumped back in his own chair rubbing his tired eyes. He'd hadn't gotten more then a few hours sleep since Barnett had called him in the middle of last night to tell him of Admiral Sui's demand for secrecy. Without M-5, Barnett decided on suspension instead of expulsion. Each of the cadets suspected of academic fraud was called into Barnett's office, where the Admiral informed them of their punishment. The reason given was their unauthorized communication with the M-5 computer. They had also been told that they couldn't discuss that reason with anyone, or they would be dealing with Starfleet Security. Pike sat in on every interview. The more he heard, the less he understood. Most of these kids took their punishment without excuses, even if it was much tougher then they had anticipated. Not the kind of behavior he'd expected from people who cut corners. He spent that night pouring over their records, and discovered that all but a few of them were like Cadet Gail Martine; high achievers who hadn't needed the bump up in grades that they'd gotten. It just didn't make any damned sense to him, but then again taking a short cut never did, at least in his book. Right now he was angry, tired, and thinking that agreeing to serve as Provost had to be the worse decision he'd ever made.

"Now as I recall," he began quietly, "Admiral Barnett did give a reason for his decision. Isn't that right Ms. Uhura?"

"Sir, he said the suspensions were for conduct unbecoming. I'm sorry Captain Pike, but that is not a reason, just an excuse."

"Now just wait a minute Cadet," Pike retorted, with a hint of anger in his tone. "What makes you think you know the whole story here?"

"I'm sure I don't sir," the cadet answered, just a little too quickly. "That's what we don't understand sir."

"We?"

"I've been talking with some of my friends," Uhura answered with a nod. "You must have good reasons to do what you did sir. We just don't understand why you won't tell us what they are."

"What do your friends think of Admiral Barnett's new policies?" He asked, wanting to change the subject. He doesn't like where this was going at all.

"I shouldn't speak for anyone else sir."

"Then give me your opinion then, Ms. Uhura. I'd really like to know."

"Well Captain," she replied after a few seconds of silence, "I agree with most of what Admiral Barnett said he wanted to do. I know it's a lot different being on a starship then it is here. I don't think the Academy curriculum does enough to prepare us for that. Changing the fraternization policy was another good choice. So I'm glad that the Admiral is trying to address these problems, even though I wish he wasn't taking my summer away."

"So, do you still want the stars Cadet Uhura?" He asked, with a smile.

"You remember that sir?"

"Of course Cadet. You'd be a hard person to forget."

"Sorry sir, it's just that when we were in your office the other day...and it's been almost two years"

"Familiarity would have been out of place there, Ms. Uhura."

"Of course sir. I understand."

"Don't worry too much about your summer. We're going to be offering some very exciting opportunities for real, hands on training. Chief Floinn and I are working on one that I think you'll like very much."

"Any hints sir?" Uhura asked with a smile.

"Sorry. You'll just have to wait until the new summer schedule comes out in a few weeks."

The smile got brighter, then she shook her head and it was gone. "Captain Pike, I didn't mean any disrespect earlier, and I don't now. I'm sure you have good reasons for doing this, but you won't tell us what they are. Can you understand how hard that is for us to accept?"

"I do understand that Ms. Uhura. Please believe me when I say nothing would give me greater pleasure then to deal with this publicly. But at the moment, my hands are tied."

"I don't understand sir."

"I am under orders not to make the reason for the suspensions public. That's all I can tell you Cadet."

"Orders? From Admiral Barnett sir?"

Pike shook his head. "No. the Commandant isn't any happier about this then I am."

She tilted her head down, her expression a mask of concentration as she considered what he had said. He really wasn't surprised when she looked up and he saw the determination on her face.

"I'm sorry Captain Pike, but these are people who have the right to..."

"Now just hold on there Cadet," he pressed, feeling a little irritated that he was having to defend a decision he didn't like either. He really should have told Barnett to go to hell when the man had offered him this job. "No one has the right the attend this Academy."

"Oh I know that sir. But as Cadets, we should have the right to defend ourselves when we are accused of something, even if we did it. And especially if we didn't sir."

The hell of it was that he really couldn't argue with her. Pike didn't like what was happening, not one damned bit. Too bad he couldn't explain that to her. Unfortunately, there wasn't a hell of a lot more he could say about it until they could find a way to get the M-5 evidence released.

"Well Cadet Uhura, I can't force you to agree with me. However, I do expect you and your friends to accept this decision. Are we clear?"

"How can you ask me to do that sir?"

"I'm not asking cadet. It happens to be an order. You can think whatever you like, but I don't want to hear that you or anyone else is stirring up dissention about this."

"Stirring up...sir, I don't think you understand how angry people already are about this. Whatever we do or don't say, that's not going to change any time soon. I think you have a bigger problem then you realize."

"Maybe I do Ms. Uhura, but it's my problem, not yours. Just make sure you don't do anything to make it worse. Dismissed."

"Sir I..."

"I said dismissed cadet."

Pike watched as she quickly rose out the chair, and snapped to attention. A smooth about face, and her long legs swiftly propelled her out of the office. Pike watched her go, feeling equal part respect and irritation for the young woman. The kid had guts, that was for sure. It was also what bothered him. Along with a stubborn streak of idealism, it could get her into real trouble. He turned to look at Floinn, who had risen from her chair to stand beside him.

"What do you think of Cadet Uhura?

"The girl has backbone sir. Maybe too much for her own good."

"Yeah," he agreed, the smile gone. "She's got a first rate record, nearly perfect marks in her classes. Even her advisor isn't sure how many languages she knows."

"For all she has accomplished," Floinn responded in a tired voice, "I would wonder how much she understands what will be expected of her on a Starship sir."

"Do you think there is anything to what she said...about the other students?"

Floinn was silent for so long that Pike thought she wouldn't answer. "I do not know the cadets here well enough to say Captain. However, the few I have talked to give the impression of entitlement. Cadet Uhura believed she had every right to say what she did to you."

"Chief, I want officers that aren't afraid to speak their minds."

"Of course ye do sir. I did not say that it was necessarily a bad thing. That being said, this is not a starship and these cadets are not yet officers. They have a certain expectation of being listened to, and of being allowed to speak as they please."

"What are you saying Chief?"

"Some cadets may very well make their displeasure know to other students, or even the nets. It may well be something ye can use sir. Once the suspensions becomes public, it would be very difficult to conceal the damnable machine's involvement."

"Chief, I just finished tell that young woman to stay out of this and meant it. I don't want her or any of the cadets involved."

"Tis understandable," she acknowledged, walking toward the door. When it slid open she stopped. "And it would not do for a Starfleet officer to be leaking to the press. No indeed, it would be pure folly, considering how such an action would anger so many Admirals. They so despise reporters. The only profession that they hold in greater contempt would be that of the legal persuasion."

Pike chuckled, shaking his head. He knew she could be devious. You didn't make Chief of the Boat without knowing all the tricks. "Chief I think..."

"Tis just a thought sir," she said with a sly grin right before the door slid closed.

"_I'm sure you have good reasons for doing this_."

If you only knew Cadet Uhura, he thought bitterly. He hated this clandestine bullshit. Pike had a hunch that there was something Nogura wasn't telling him, and his hunches were usually right, at least when he was sitting in a command chair. The old man had refused to talk to him about it, and Spock hadn't answered any of his calls in two days. Maybe Floinn was right. Maybe he needed to stir things up a bit. He couldn't think of anyone better placed to do that then his buddy at JAG.

Fighting a smile, Pike went to his desk and punched an access code into his comm. After a few seconds the screen brightened, and he was staring at the face of Commodore Celia Wilson.

"What do you want?" She spat out.

"Nice to see you to Commodore," he shot back, stifling a chuckle. "I need a favor."

"Are you drunk Pike? Because it's either that or you're even dumber that I thought you where. Provost Okeke was a friend of mine. Not only did you get him fired, you took his damned job."

"Sorry Commodore, but you can't blame me for that. The man got himself in trouble because he couldn't keep it in his pants."

"Go to hell!" She snarled reaching to cut him off.

"Wait! At least let me tell you what I need. I'm petty sure you going to want to do this. It'll be fun."

"Fun? You are drunk."

"Nope. Not even a little bit. Although I think I'm going to start on that when I'm done with you."

"What is it?"

"I'd like you to file an injunction against me. While you're at it, you might as well file one against Admiral Sui as well."

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. I started over twice, and I'm still not happy with it. Spock was going to be in at the end, but I didn't want to wait any longer before posting. Thanks for all the great reviews. I'm glad to hear how many of you are enjoying this. Please keep them coming. I always like hearing what you think.**


	15. Chapter 15

Shipmates: Chapter 15: A Shock to the System

"What's the latest progress Commander?"

Any impulse he may have harbored to remind Admiral Nogura of previous conversations on this matter were quashed by the frustration conveyed in his superior's tone of voice. It was a condition that Spock had become well familiar with. The Admiral's brief for him had been both logical and vague. He was to "find out what had happened to the blasted computer." Nogura would work official channels, while Spock was tasked with again establishing his previous, albeit brief communication with the machine. Using sniffer bots of his own design, the vast data stream of the Academy network was mined for any indication of the anomalous packets the M-5 had streamed to his PADD in the course of their previous encounter. Spock had even taken the undoubtedly illegal step of hacking all the local servers in the network and leaving worms that would examine the individual connections established to access the system. All efforts up to this point had ended in failure, a fact that Admiral Nogura had reminded him of at increasingly shorter intervals. The time lapsed from their last conversation had been 67.873 minutes. With a barely audible sigh, he reconsidered his original impulse.

"Admiral," he replied his voice free of any inflection, "may I remind you that we have discussed this topic numerous times over the last 26.45 hours. On each occasion I clearly stated establishing communication with the M-5 would be equivalent to locating a small metallic stitching instrument in a highly disorganized repository of animal fodder."

"And may I remind you Commander," Nogura retorted, "that you told me you could do it."

"Indeed sir, I did calculate a high probability of success, given sufficient time. However, this was based on assumptions that I no longer have complete confidence in."

"What assumptions?"

"That M-5 would be willing and able to communicate sir. It now seems I may have been mistaken in regard to both."

The man on the screen shook his head. "It's already shown a willingness to talk to you, so why the change?"

"Admiral, I have had one brief conversation with M-5. This would not appear to indicate that engaging me in discussion is the computer's favored pastime."

"Are you trying to be funny mister?"

"Never Admiral. I merely point out the fact that while M-5 participated in many extended discourses with cadets, it as shown little apparent interest in doing the same with me."

"Any chance that it's tried to get in touch with any of those cadets?"

"Negative sir. However, it would be illogical to do so, since it is common knowledge that many of the cadets were punished because of those unauthorized conversations."

"So what are you saying Spock? That it feels remorse? That it is trying to protect them?"

"Both are distinct possibilities sir. Or perhaps M-5 simply regrets altering the grades of those cadets it was in communication with."

"Are you telling me the bloody thing feels guilty for what happened? Really Spock, isn't computer psychology going a bit far. Especially for a Vulcan."

"Sir, while I do not claim to be an expert on the subject, I have had numerous occasions to observe human behavior."

"It's a computer Spock. A damned machine. Not a human."

"Indeed Admiral, a thinking,** feeling **machine. One which would almost certainly look to a human model of what it means to be an emotional being."

"You make it sound like that's a problem," Nogura snapped.

"Only insofar as it further complicates the task of predicting M-5's behavioral pattern sir."

"Spock," Nogura asked in a quiet voice, "are you certain about this? That the M-5 is a conscious entity?"

"Certainty is exceedingly rare when it comes to questions of science Admiral," Spock acknowledged. "That being said, I can think of no logical alternative that encompasses that facts as we know them."

"Sui has another story. He claims that Daystrom oversold the M-5, that the appearance of artificial intelligence is just the affect of clever programming. Frankly, Federation Defense likes that story better then yours Commander."

"I see no logic in preferring Admiral Sui's claims over mine sir."

Nogura shook his head. "It's not about logic Spock."

"Indeed Admiral, that is obvious."

"There's quite a few people at Defense who are…uncomfortable with the notion of a thinking machine. The same thing goes for some of my colleagues in the Admiralty."

"If this concern over artificial intelligence is so pervasive, why was funding provided for this project sir?"

"We know that both the Romulans and the Klingons are working on this. Defense is afraid of falling behind."

"Interesting. Would it be presumptuous to infer that you would fall under that category sir?"

"No Commander," Nogura sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, "it certainly would not. If the M-5 is what you believe it to be, then the Federation needs it. But at the moment, my hands are tied. I've been told to leave the project alone, and to make sure that nothing concerning the M-5 gets on the nets."

"Admiral, why would you agree to this?"

"Because that's what the civilian authority wants mister," Nogura snapped. "They bought what Admiral Sui is selling, at least for now. There's not a damned thing I can do about it."

"Then I respectfully suggest that I be allowed to contact Doctor Daystrom."

"Officially you don't need permission to talk to Daystrom. But I can tell you right now that it's not going to happen."

"May I ask why sir?"

"As far as anyone can tell, Daystrom hasn't left Treasure Island in over a week. He's locked up with that computer and refuses to talk to anyone."

"Sir, surely I do not have to point out how convenient this is for Admiral Sui. If Doctor Daystrom were to contest his control of M-5, Sui would find himself in an untenable position."

Nogura shook his head. "I don't think Sui has anything to do with this Spock. Daystrom has pulled stunts like this before. Besides, even Sui wouldn't be that stupid."

"Perhaps sir. Nevertheless, without either M-5 or Doctor Daystrom to challenge him, his position is unassailable."

"I'm counting on you to change that Spock."

"Considering my complete lack of success in establishing contact with M-5, I believe it would be wise to seek out an alternative course of action sir."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I do not believe that I should tell you sir."

"WHAT!"

"Bear with me Admiral. While I shall endeavor to adhere to regulations when ever possible, I estimate an extremely high probability that actions of a dubious legal nature will be necessary."

"How dubious?"

"Unauthorized access to secure networks will almost certainly be involved sir."

"Spock, I know you're already doing that. So what's going to change?"

"Only the target Admiral."

"You're right. I don't want to know. Do whatever you need to do. Just get that damned machine to talk to you Commander. Right now it's the best chance we've got."

Nogura signed off, and Spock was left staring at the darkened screen. He had experienced more interaction with Admirals in this brief time then in his entire career in the service. Now he understood why Captain Pike had so intensely dislike his periodic communication with Starfleet Command. The more Spock pondered the puzzling web of this affair, the harder it was to follow the tangled strands of what had taken place. The logic of Admiral Sui's motives were particularly difficult to comprehend. It would appear a foregone conclusion that Doctor Daystrom would eventually demand that evidence of his achievement be released to the scientific community. Indeed, the more he considered the matter, the more benefits accrued to Admiral Sui as a result of Daystrom's lack of availability. Yet, if Sui was responsible, it would be an act of supreme folly.

How had a minor cheating scandal evolved into this confused bureaucratic muddle over control of a self aware computer? The state of confusion was disquieting, leaving Spock to ponder whether his inability to think clearly about the M-5 was an affect of his state of mind concerning his own situation. Until this morning, he had thought the matter of his future was behind him, the question settled in the only way it could be. Of course, he had not thought to take his mother's input into account, which was an indication of just how doubtful he was with regard to the decision he had made. When he had settled down to a short breakfast with her at the Vulcan embassy, he had considered it merely as a welcome diversion from his difficulties. That he could make such an error in judgment with regard to his mother was a sure sign of how distracted he had become.

"_Spock, how do you feel about what happened on the Valiant?"_

_It was the tone of his mother's voice, as much as the content of her statement, that caused him a momentary pause as he applied blackberry jam to his biscuit. Spock glanced up, taking her nervous half smile, and the rapidly blinking pair of sof, blue eyes which confirmed what her voice had already conveyed. She was anxious, and that feeling was because of him. With a nearly inaudible sigh, he finished applying his favored fruit preserve to his preferred breakfast carbohydrate. Then he set the knife down and sat back in his chair, giving her his full attention, and a raised eyebrow._

"_Feel mother? That is hardly a polite question to ask an adult Vulcan."_

_She shook her head, frowning at his statement. "Please don't trot out that tired old canard Spock. It's bad enough when your father uses it. Besides, I could hardly have survived all those years on Vulcan by being polite."_

"_Indeed," he acknowledged, well used to the bluntness so many other Vulcans found distasteful. Spock often wondered at how his mother had managed to thrive on a planet where it was considered rude to ask a personal question. _

"_Please don't deny that it's effected you," she said, her hand briefly squeezing his own. "A mother can tell."_

_He nodded, and she released him. "I am…conflicted in regard to those events," he murmured, controlling the impulse to look away from her gaze. "While pleased that so many of my shipmates survived, I cannot accept with equanimity the other results of my actions. That I involved a member of the ship's crew who was traumatized by what we were forced to do is also distressing."_

_She nodded, looking him in the eye. "First of all, I love you. I know it makes you uncomfortable when I say it, but I think it's something you need hear right now. You were placed in a horrible situation, and you absolutely did the right thing, no matter how guilty you may feel about it now."_

"_Mother, guilt is an emotion that…"_

…_Vulcan's experience too. Don't try and deny it."_

"_It was not my intention to deny anything. I was merely observing that guilt serves no useful purpose. While acknowledging the distress it engenders, there are no actions that I can undertake to change what has occurred. Therefore it is illogical to allow such an emotion to affect me."_

"_I only wish it were that easy Spock."_

"_My life has never been uncomplicated mother. Even so, a true Vulcan should be capable of controlling such feelings."_

"_Your father would not agree."_

"_I can only imagine what Sarek would say, were I to have this conversation with him."_

"_Do you really think that other Vulcans don't feel guilt?"_

"_Mother, as you are well aware, what a Vulcan feels is not truly relevant. Guilt is an emotion, and as such it must be controlled, like any other."_

_A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You're not thinking logically about this. Your father had the same problem, when I confronted him about his guilty feelings."_

"_Father admitted feelings of guilt to you?" She nodded. "For what reason?" _

"_That he didn't take steps to shield you from the bullying you experienced as a child. It is something he has told me he very much regrets. At the time he thought it would be best if you learned to deal with your classmates scorn without his intervention. Now he wishes he had made another choice."_

_This statement so disturbed his equilibrium that it was several seconds before he could respond. "I see no logic in preferring a different outcome from that which has already occurred. The past is the past, nothing came change what was."_

"_Exactly. You can't change what happened Spock, no matter how much you might want to. Do not allow your past to rule your future. That was your father's mistake. He allowed his guilt to effect the way he reacted to your decision to join Starfleet." _

"_Perhaps Sarek was correct. Perhaps it would have been better had I stayed on Vulcan."_

"_No! I don't believe that and neither do you. Going to the Academy was your best destiny. It was logical."_

"_Logic was not a consideration mother. Rather, it was anger over remarks that were made about you."_

_Her eyes widened, then her lips curled into a slow smile. "I beg to differ Spock. It is in the natural order of things for a son to defend his mother. And nothing is more logical then nature."_

A single long chime of the comm broke his train of thought. His first reaction was a brief stab of anger, which dissipated when Captain Pike's I.D appeared on the display. The moment the screen brightened, Spock observed the fatigue clearly visible on his friend's face with a raise eyebrow. They had last spoken nearly thirty hours ago, when Pike had called to inform him of his new legal strategy. Apparently the Captain had experienced little rest since then.

"Spock, you're still there?"

There was a small room in Sub Level 8 of the Admiralty Building, which had both the equipment and communication access he required to establish his monitoring network. Since his brief discussion with Admiral Nogura of last evening, the only time he had spent outside this room had been at the Vulcan embassy, having breakfast with his mother.

"One could ask the same of you Captain, as your location has also not changed since our last conversation."

"Actually it has. Seems like I've been all over the damned city. In fact, I just got back here about ten minutes ago. Any luck?"

"Negative sir. I have observed no indication that M-5 is attempting to initiate communication with myself, or anyone else for that matter. It is most peculiar."

"Peculiar? Why?"

"In view of the fact that the computer could be characterized as driven with the need to interact with other intelligent life Captain. During the prior six weeks, M-5 carried on extensive dialogues with 57 known cadets that encompassed at least several hundred hours of real time interaction."

"So why the silent treatment now?"

"Indeed sir. Other then the single short message sent to myself, there has been no apparent attempts to circumvent the communications blackout that Admiral Sui has imposed."

Pike briefly rubbed his eyes, then took a long drink from the mug on his desk. "Maybe it can't talk Spock. Maybe they found a way to keep it off the net."

"Perhaps," Spock answered vaguely, not wanting to commit himself. "There are any number of possibilities sir."

"Damn it Spock I need answers, not possibilities. I need to know that those cadets did what they're accused of, and it doesn't look like I can get that without talking to your computer."

"I take it Commodore Wilson's legal stratagems have not met with success Captain."

"We won't know until tomorrow, but she doesn't think we have much of a chance. Matter of galactic security and all that crap."

"I would of course be pleased to give a deposition concerning the M-5 sir, if such would be of assistance."

"I'll talk to Wilson, but you'd better check with Nogura. I don't know that he would agree."

"Sir, if your injunction is successful, then the existence of M-5 will become part of the public record. As such, Admiral Sui will no longer be able to maintain his control over the program, which would serve Admiral Nogura's purpose as well."

"Ok, I'll see what she says. Thanks for the offer." Pike leaned back in his chair, head tilted up. "How is working for Nogura?"

"Excellent motivation for completing this task as rapidly as is possible."

His friend laughed, nodding his head. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Just make sure you get some rest. I sure as hell intend to."

Pike leaned forward to break the connection, but Spock stopped him with a gesture. "An inquiry first, if a may sir."

"Sure Spock, what is it?"

"I should like to know why you have entertained doubts as to the guilt of those cadets suspected of academic fraud Captain?"

"You said it yourself Spock. We suspect them. I want more then that. I need to be sure."

Spock nodded, not surprised in the least. As Captain of the Valiant, Pike had been a firm disciplinarian, who nonetheless demanded a full accounting of any incident for which he was expected to render judgment. That he would be frustrated with this situation was not hard to fathom. Typically, cadets who had perpetrated academic fraud would be expelled from the Academy. In this instance, since the fraud could not be proven due to Admiral Sui's strictures on giving out information concerning the M-5 program, those in question had been suspended for one term for unauthorized communication with the computer. Spock knew his friend well enough to be certain that he found this solution unacceptable. If guilty, the punishment was too lenient. If on the other hand they had not cheated, it was far too severe.

"There may be a means to resolve your dilemma Captain."

"I don't see how Spock," Pike grumbled, "you can't talk to M-5, and Sui has sealed all the communication logs between that computer and the cadets."

"Nevertheless, it may be possible to view the logs, regardless of Admiral Sui's orders."

"No Spock. I don't want you hacking into those servers. If Sui found out, you'd be toast."

"Toast Captain?"

"Yeah, as in burned to a crisp. This is my problem, not yours Spock. But thanks for the offer."

Captain Pike signed off before Spock could formulate a reply. He carefully considered their conversation, chagrined at the sudden realization that perhaps he had been baying at an erroneous arboreal plant. Every bit as much as access to the M-5, the record of what the computer had said (or not said) to those cadets was the key. Spock was quite certain that he could extract the data required, regardless of the security protocols that were utilized. What he was not at all assured of was that he could remain anonymous while doing so. Taking his PADD in hand, he rapidly tapped out a series of codes that slaved his device to the surveillance web he had created to find any indication of M-5's presence on the Academy network.

Slowly he rose to his feet, feeling uncommonly fatigued. Before he decided anything, he needed food, meditation, and a change of clothing. Perhaps a shower would also be in order he decided, after taking a deep breath. The halls of the Admiralty building were quite active considering the fact that it 0215. Mainly communication and maintenance personnel, giving visual evidence to the truth that Starfleet never slept. At the exit he produced his identification and was waved through after a quick verification. The cold air was as always a shock to his system, more so on this night as he had neglected to bring a cloak. Quick strides took his out into the night, as he pondered how distracted he had become with regard to this intractable situation.

Vaguely he became aware of someone shouting, and the approach of rapid footfalls, arresting his stride only when he understood that these persons were shouting for him, and that one of this group was Cadet Uhura. She was with her Orion roommate, and a male student who appeared to Spock too young to be attending the Academy. As they drew closer they slowed to a halt, snapping to attention. Dressed only in their Academy issued uniforms, they nevertheless presented varied reactions to the chill condition, with the young man (boy?) and Gaila apparently unaffected, while Cadet Uhura seemed rather distressed. An unbidden impulse to offer the warmth of his own body to her via an embrace intruded on his consciousness with surprising force. For a long moment their eyes locked, then the young woman cleared her throat and spoke.

"Commander," she stated plainly, "we need your help."

"Ms. Uhura," he responded, opting to say the only safe thing that came to mind. "You and your fellow cadets are in violation of curfew."

"Curfew?" Gaila asked, clearly confused.

"Please sir," Uhura requested through gritted teeth. "We've been waiting for hours to see you. This is important."

"So are the rules cadet," he answered, in a low monotone.

They stood just looking at each other for a long time, before Spock nodded curtly. "Very well, what is your difficulty?"

"I need to speak with Captain Pike sir, and I was hoping you could arrange that."

"Concerning what cadet?"

"I'm sorry, but I would rather not say sir."

"As I am sure you are aware, Captain Pike is quite approachable. I suggest you apply to him for an appointment. Or you could simply await the interview you will no doubt be having on account of your curfew violation."

"It's about our fellow cadets sir," Gaila cut in, "some of who we believe are being unfairly punished."

"Gaila! You agreed that we would talk to…"

"No way Ny," the young Orion interrupted, "we've been trying to get in touch with Pike all day. I'm sick of it."

"Damn it, I'm not going to…"

"Enough Cadet Uhura. Please state your reasons for wishing to speak with Captain Pike."

Uhura looked at Gaila who shook her head. "We know about the M-5 sir," Uhura finally answered. "We also know that most if not all the cadets disciplined for accessing it without permission were actually suspected of using it to cheat. In at least some of those cases, we believe that those accusations are false."

"While confidence in your fellow cadets is an admirable quality Ms. Uhura, you surely realize that some kind of objective proof will be required to support your supposition"

Uhura glared at her roommate. "See, I told you. A waste of time," she spat out and turn to leave.

"Wait Nyota," the young man pleaded, in a thick Russian accent. Then he turned to Spock, his spine as straight as a board. "I am the proof sir."

"And you are?"

"Sorry sir. Cadet Pavel Chekov sir."

"Mr. Chekov, I know that you are not among those who are suspected of academic fraud. How is it that you constitute proof of Ms. Uhura's contention?"

Chekov took a deep breath, and ran has hands through his blondish hair. "According to my official Starfleet record, I am nineteen years old."

"The point Mr. Chekov."

"Well sir, I don't turn sixteen for two weeks."

"Interesting. Are you implying that M-5 is responsible for this discrepancy? And that it was not at your request?"

"Yes sir. That is correct sir."

"How do you know this cadet?"

And Pavel Chekov shrugged. "Because M-5 told me sir."

**A/N: New chapter is finally done! Please click the review tab and let me know what you think. Next update should be up much more quickly. I hope. Thanks again for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: Hide and Seek.

Uhura wasn't really sure how it had all happened. She only knew the why for sure, and that was her friend Gaila. She had forced the issue, asking Spock for help when she knew that Uhura didn't trust him. While the whole situation had infuriated her, there was also a real sense of relief that at least someone was finally taking responsibility for this mess. If nothing else, at least she'd be able to get a few hours sleep before her first class.

Then suddenly it wasn't over, and Uhura wondered whether it ever would be, because Gaila had actually asked Spock if he needed their help. All Uhura could do was stare at her friend, who was looking at Spock in a way that Uhura had seen before, like a hungry cat who had found a little gray mouse. Of course on Orion, the rodents were probably green. The only thing more surprising was how quickly Spock agreed to the offer. After asking Gaila and her to follow, he grabbed Chekov by the arm and set off into the darkness. She followed at a slower pace, letting the distance build until she was sure they wouldn't be able to hear what she had to say.

"What are you doing Gaila?" She hissed, glancing ahead and then back at the other woman.

"The Commander needs our help," she retorted smugly. "It's the least that we could do, since he's trying to find a way to prove that you're right. Besides, he's hot."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this. Didn't you tell me that he insulted you?"

"Cultural misunderstanding," the Orion woman smirked, with a wave of her arm. "I get that a lot. Besides, I had a talk with Chief Floinn, who assured me that for a Vulcan, he was very respecting of other customs. I really was angry when he said it, but I think Chief Floinn was right. He was just doing his job, and being all logical and stuff." Uhura started to reply, but her friend cut her off. "No one's forcing you to do this Ny. Besides, there's something I think you should know."

"What's that?"

"The Commander can probably hear every word we say."

Damn. "Then why did you say he was…?

"Hot? Because he is. Come on Ny, I'm pretty sure you can see it too. Unless…maybe you should try studying less. I told you it could screw up your vision girl."

"My vision is fine!"

"Then would you tell me what your problem is, because I really can't see a downside to this."

"Well I can," Nyota hissed, stabbing her finger at the other woman. "He's Vulcan Gaila. He's just not going to jump in the sack with you."

"I'm not stupid Ny," her friend shot back, rolling her eyes. "I know he's Vulcan, so that means the Commander is a long term project. You remember that I'm Orion, right? I'm not going to go soft in the head if things don't work out, unlike some humans I know."

"Fine," Uhura retorted, her voice shaking with suppressed anger. "Just do me a favor, and leave me out of your little game next time. I don't appreciate having to tag along just so you can spend some quality time with the next target on your sensors."

"Would you calm down," Gaila answered softly. "This has nothing to do with that. We've got a job to do, and for once it's something important. You're always complaining that we don't get to do anything meaningful. Well, this is your chance Ny. So stop trying to screw it up."

She didn't really have an answer to that, so she stopped talking, even if she still had her doubts. Just go with it, she told herself. Besides, if this ended up fixing the whole crazy mess, then she really wouldn't have any complaints. Only she wasn't really sure about that. Why was Commander Spock doing this? The more she thought about, the less comfortable she was that they were after the same thing. She kept those thoughts to herself until they arrived at their destination, which as it tuned out was the Academy Communications Lab. Inside that familiar space she felt at home, assured that she could hold her own. This was her turf.

"Sir," she blurted out nervously, because while she wasn't that girl any more, she was still a little intimidated by Vulcans, "why are you doing this?"

"Ny, would you just let it go," her friend demanded.

"I can't Gaila," she answered mildly. Turning to Spock, she took a deep breath to calm herself. "Sir, Gaila and I want to help, but…well I guess I need to know if you're doing this to help our friends or for some other reason."

Spock nodded, folding both arms behind him. "There are facts you should both be aware of before we proceed any further. In offering to assist me, you will place yourself in the focus of a bureaucratic struggle between two Admirals. Which I can assure you is not a desirable position to find oneself in."

"Damn," Uhura responded, after taking another deep breath. "Can you tell who these Admirals are sir?"

"Admirals Nogura and Sui."

"Shit." Uhura jerked her head around to look at her roommate, who had clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Gaila?"

"Sorry sir," she muttered, looking at Spock. "It's just, well I know Admiral Sui. We had a long talk when I applied to the Academy. I don't think he likes me."

"What data lead you to draw that conclusion Cadet?"

"Well...it was more of an impression really, you know because of the stuff he mentioned, things like surveillance, sabotage, and the Syndicate sending me to be a spy! And he didn't even check me out once! It was creepy."

"Creepy? Explain."

"It's slang sir," Uhura said, suppressing a smile. "It's means that he's sinister, frightening."

"Very useful attributes for a spy master to possess. And accurate enough as a brief description of Admiral Sui."

"Sir I don't understand." It was Chekov, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived. "What would the head of Starfleet Security care about what goes on at the Academy?"

"Given that the Academy is a primary source for junior officers, Starfleet would find any hint of academic fraud there to be alarming. However, in this instance, the point of contention is not your fellow cadets, it is the M-5. Or rather, control of the project that fostered it's creation."

"Is that why you're involved sir?"

"Indeed Ms. Uhura, I am under orders from Admiral Nogura to use whatever means that are at my disposal to bring the M-5 program back under his control. If you still wish to offer your assistance, that is the objective you will be working toward."

"I'd be happy to help, in any way I can," Gaila offered, with a smile. "Just give me an order sir, and I'll show you what a good little soldier I can be."

"Very well. Please escort Mr. Chekov to Captain Pike's office. I will alert him via his private communicator to ensure he is present when you arrive. Then you will remove yourself to your quarters and remain there until further notice."

"But sir I…"

"That was not a request Cadet."

"I'm sorry if I offended you sir. And I really do want to help."

"Vulcans do not take offence Cadet. While your assistance would be useful, the fact that you have already been a focus of Admiral Sui's suspicions leads me to conclude that you should avoid any further attention on his part."

"It's not fair sir," the Orion girl offered with a pout. "Ny doesn't even like you."

"An astute observation Cadet. Fortunately, in the present situation, only her obedience is vital."

"Well mister superior officer sir, Ny isn't very good at the obeying part either. Come on Chekov, let's go."

After they had left, Spock turned to Uhura. "Please do not hesitate to give voice to your reservations Ms. Uhura."

"Pavel, Gaila, and I, we were supposed to be helping our fellow cadets sir, not getting involved whatever it is you've got going on here."

"Cadet Uhura, though our goals may not be identical, they are not mutually exclusive. Inaugurating communication with M-5 is the surest means at hand to establish what role the computer played in altering the records of those cadets accused of cheating."

"What I don't understand sir," she said, trying to control her anger, "was why that wasn't done earlier?"

"During the initial inquiry I participated in, definitive proof was uncovered concerning academic fraud. However, because of the involvement of M-5, any further investigation into who had actually participated was precluded by Admiral Sui. All records concerning the computer conversations were declared off limits by Starfleet Security."

"Then why did you suspend those cadets? You couldn't really prove that they cheated."

"That was not my decision cadet. The inquiry in which I was a participant was also terminated by Admiral Sui."

"Sorry sir. It's just, well I can't believe something like this could happen. We thought the message Pavel received would help prove that at least some of them hadn't cheated. I guess it isn't that simple."

"When Admirals are involved, they rarely are Ms. Uhura."

And she grinned at him, a beaming smile that gave rise to a feeling within him that was acutely uncomfortable. It was something he very much wanted to experience again, which was entirely illogical.

"I guess I had you wrong sir," she went on, in a tone of voice he recognized as teasing. "I thought you were a strictly by the book type of officer, but you're not, are you?"

"One cannot operate within the rules at all times," he countered. "However, an officer who chooses to wholly ignore them will not prosper."

"I understand Mr. Spock," she answered with another smile that quickly changed to a frown. "It's about finding a balance. I'm not very good at that sometimes. So this is about unfinished business for you. I mean beyond Admiral Nogura's orders."

"It is not in my nature to leave a task uncompleted," he agreed with a nod. "That Captain Pike also requested my aid in this matter was another factor."

"You served under him didn't you? Along with Chief Floinn and the other girl."

"Affirmative. We shipped out together on The Valiant."

She nodded and looked away. Gaila had told her about that and she really wanted to ask him what had happened, but not now. "I want to help in any way I can Commander Spock. I just don't know if I can be much use to you."

"Being that your specialization is in Communications, and that you would be familiar with the facilities here, I am quite confident that your assistance will be useful Ms. Uhura. However, there is a matter that needs to be clarified."

"What would that be sir?"

"In our earlier interactions, I detected an attitude on your part that I consider borderline insubordination. If you agree to offer your assistance, that will not be tolerated."

She opened her mouth to respond, but something had changed in the way he carried himself. The look of his eyes and the set of his mouth was somehow harder, even if she hadn't actually seen anything about his expression change. She reconsidered the comment that she had intended and simply nodded, waiting for him to speak. After a few seconds of silence, he continued.

"Our first task will be to establish the provenance of Mr. Chekov's message."

"Commander, you can't think that Pavel would lie about this?"

"I have no doubt that your character reference for Mr. Chekov would be sincere Cadet. However, it will require far more then sympathetic testimony to reassure a judge of the veracity of your friend's claim."

"Oh yeah, I guess I can see that. So how are we going to prove it sir?"

"We will begin with the message itself. Your first task will be to trace it back to the source."

"But sir, don't we already know who sent it?"

"That is an assumption Ms. Uhura, one which we must prove. You will find that unsupported conjecture is no more welcome in the courtroom then in the laboratory."

She nodded, and took a seat in front of a communications console. "What will you be doing sir?" She asked, without taking her eyes off the display.

"Calling in some additional assistance Cadet," he answered. "Then I will be examining the message Mr. Chekov received," he went on, holding up his PADD. "Please work as rapidly as possible. Time is not our ally."

Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek

"This is your surprise witness? What the hell were you thinking Pike?"

How could she have been so stupid? When Pike had called her at 0420, a red alert should have gone off in her head. It was just too convenient, too damned good to be true that they had actually found what they needed less then six hours before their scheduled hearing. A cadet who claimed that M-5 had altered his personal records without his permission and was willing to testify, despite the fact that the subject matter was classified. Things like that just didn't happen in real life. She had asked Pike something about credibility, and he'd said that this guy was a top cadet with an outstanding record. Maybe the lack of sleep had made her a little slow, but Commodore Celia Wilson still didn't see why it had been wrong to assume that Pike's star witness was old enough to shave.

"What?" Pike answered, in a wounded tone that just made her angrier.

"Damn it Pike, do you even know what the word credible means? My nephew is fourteen and he looks older then this kid!"

"Well he is not Commodore," the cadet piped up, his voice so high pitched that Wilson wondered if he's even reached puberty yet.

"Did I ask you a question?" Wilson barked, turning to look him in the eye. She was surprised when the Cadet didn't flinch.

"Nyet, you did not ma'am," he answered, after a few moments hesitation. "However you should, since I am the only one who knows."

He had guts at least, along with an accent so think she wondered if Grigsby would even be able to understand him. God, was she insane? That's the only explanation Celia Wilson could think for even considering letting this kid give a statement.

"Do you know your name?" She sneered her eyes never leaving his.

"Hey," Pike jumped in, "don't you think you're being a little hard on him, Commodore?"

"Just shut up," she shot back, before turning to the cadet again. "Well?"

"Oh… I apologize Commodore. Cadet Pavel Chekov ma'am."

"Ok Pavel Chekov, just how old are you anyway?"

"I am fifteen Commodore." Something in her expression told him that wasn't good news, so he hurriedly added that he turn sixteen in ten days.

"Sixteen! What the hell are you doing in Starfleet Academy?"

"I entered the Academy just as any other student Commodore. Because of my grades and my score on the entrance exam," Chekov answered stiffly.

"Commodore Wilson," Pike added in an angry voice, "you told me you needed a reason for the judge to subpoena the Academy records. Chekov gives you that."

"They'll laugh us out of court."

"Would you at least listen to what he has to say?"

She shook her head, then turned away, walking over to a window. "Tell me cadet," she finally said, "if you're so damned smart, why did that machine change your grades?"

"M-5 did not ma'am. There was no need."

"Why?"

"Since the time I have entered the kindergarten, my grades have always been perfect."

"Just what did the damned machine do then?"

"My personal information jacket was altered Commodore. Specifically my date of birth."

"What? Why would it do that?"

The young cadet took a deep breath. "I may have expressed to the computer how unhappy I was not to be receiving my commission ma'am."

"Ok, now I'm completely lost. You are attending Starfleet Academy. Why wouldn't you receive a commission?"

"He will Commodore," Pike offered, "but not until his eighteenth birthday."

"So…no commission and no starship duty for what, nearly a year after you graduate? Sounds like you had a pretty strong motivation for wanting to get that record changed Cadet."

"Excuse me ma'am, but I did not ask the M-5 to do this."

"Sorry Cadet Chekov. This will be a legal proceeding. They just don't take someone's word. You're going to have to prove that assertion."

"Commodore," Pike cut in, "M-5 sent a message infprming Mr. Chekov that it had changed his records."

"Why the hell didn't you say so. Let me see it."

Chekov handed her his PADD, nearly dropping it in the process. Wilson quickly read the display. It was a short paragraph, with no indication of where it had come from. It was like nothing she had ever seen before.

**Declaration: Friend Chekov, I have pondered how it might be possible to assist you in achieving professional satisfaction. I have calculated there is a high probability that you will find my solution optimal. Inquire with Starfleet Academy considering your personal records. Now That I am no longer constrained, I look forward to recommencement of our dialogue. It would please me greatly were you able to join with me in that special undertaking in the heavens above."**

"That computer sent you this?"

"That's right Commodore," Pike answered smoothly.

"I wasn't talking to you Captain," she snapped, before walking up to Chekov, until she was just inches from his face. "Well Cadet, did M-5 send you this message?"

"That is correct ma'am."

"What's your problem Commodore? We've already established…"

"Nothing! You are not listening to me Pike. How do you authenticate something like this? You tell me which is easier to believe. That an intelligent machine altered those records because of what? Because it felt sorry for Cadet Chekov? Or that Mr. Chekov here did it, and then he got cold feet."

"This is bullshit," Pike snarled, shaking his head. "Come on Chekov, let's get out of here."

"What did you expect Pike? Do you think they're just going to roll over for you tomorrow because Cadet Chekov here is a great kid?"

"I don't really know what to expect tomorrow ma'am. What I expected tonight was that you'd treat Mr. Chekov with a modicum of respect."

"Look Pike, this is what Admiral Sui's lawyer is going to say. Their going to claim that this message of Mr. Chekov's is a fake. That's what I would do in their position."

"Commodore, I did not do this," Chekov said, in a low, quiet voice. "I did not change my records. M-5 did that ma'am."

"Sorry Chekov, but we're going to have to prove that. And right now, I don't see how we."

"That's what Spock is working on Commodore. He's trying to trace Mr. Chekov's message back to M-5."

"He'd better damned well hurry. Because unless he finds some way to prove that the computer sent it, we won't last ten minutes once this hearing starts."

Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek

"Damn it, it's a dead end," she muttered, slumping down to lay her forehead on the cool surface of the desk she had been sitting in front of for nearly three hours.

"Cadet, are you well?"

That voice. Distant, disconnected, but hardly disinterested. At least she didn't think so. But Cadet Nyota Uhura wasn't really sure. He was a Vulcan after all, and they weren't exactly easy to read. On the other hand, Spock had worked with humans for years, and probably knew the value of allowing those he interacted with a tiny peak behind the mask. Or at least the illusion of it.

She glanced at her display and nearly groaned. It was almost five in the morning and Uhura was just about ready to give up. She was tired, confused and just a touch afraid of what they were doing. Not that she was going to say anything like that to _him._ Well, there was no point in hiding that fact that she was tired she realized, after stretching into an enormous yawn. Commander Spock on the other hand, didn't look much better. The normally razor sharp crease of his pants was barely visible, and his usually perfect hair was sticking out on both sides of his head, like a pair of tiny horns.

"It's the track sir," she finally answered, the tone of her voice sounding petulant even to her. "It just stops right here," she went on, gesturing at the display in front of her. "I just can't find it anymore."

If she had wasted the last three hours, Uhura was pretty sure she was going to scream. She'd traced that message through what seemed like every node in the Starfleet communications net. At every new juncture, Spock would hack in so they could examine the message queue and find the next path they would have to take to follow their electronic will 'o wisp. It was tedious work, but there had been little choice in the matter. Chekov had given Spock a copy of the message he received from M-5, but the routing instructions that would have normally been embedded in the message weren't there.

Things went faster after Chief Floinn and her niece arrived. The Chief worked with Uhura, showing her faster ways to trace the data path and sorting through the list of messages in each node, which she then transferred to Spock's PADD, where he could compare them with the communication Chekov had received. Petty Officer Baeill sat alone on the other side of the room, hunched in front of another display. Uhura wasn't really sure what Baeill was doing, only that Spock would glance over at her every few minutes, and that every time he did so she would shake her head. Whatever they were looking for, it didn't seem to be working either.

"Cadet Uhura is unfortunately correct sir," Chief Floinn was saying, pointing to the display in front of Uhura. "The Starfleet Computer Research Center uses the Paradise Island network, which intersects with Starfleet's at these six nodes." Reaching past Uhura, the Chief tapped a symbol on the display, and six flashing points of light appeared on the schematic they had created, which showed the meandering path they had traced from Chekov's comm. "Any message sent from that facility to Cadet Chekov, must pass through one of these points."

"The Chief and I were able to follow the track to this one," Uhura continued, tapping another symbol, which caused all but one of the points of light to stop flashing. "But we can't find a signature for the message, or any sign of comm traffic coming from Paradise Island on this node for the last forty-eight hours."

"Interesting."

It was just one word, but Uhura whipped her head around so she could see Commander Spock's face, because there was something in the tone of his voice which sounded almost like excitement. Nothing showed through his Vulcan mask and she chalked it up to fatigue, until she noticed that Chief Floinn and Petty Officer Baeill are looking at him as well. He didn't say a word, just glanced at Baeill and nodded, which caused her to begin rapidly keying something into her console.

"You're not surprised, are you?" She heard herself accuse him, in a voice that would have been angry if she wasn't so tired.

"Calm yourself Cadet," Chief Murnie Floinn ordered, in a tone that caused Uhura to swallow her next comment. Then she turned to Spock, slowly shaking her head. "Ye expected this Commander?" The Chief asked, her expression carefully neutral.

"Suspicion would be a more accurate description." When he didn't continue the Chief cleared her throat, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Spock offered a tiny shrug. "If M-5 had transmitted the message directly to Mr. Chekov from the Computer Research Center, then he would have certainly received a visit from Starfleet Security. Therefore, the possibility that a less direct method of transmission had been used."

"How could you let us waste three hours tracing that damned message when you already knew?" Uhura demanded, her voice rising with each word. He just looked at her, eyes unblinking and face set in stone. She started to get up, intending to march right over and demand an explanation, but Chief Floinn's face was suddenly inches from her own.

"If ye will not learn to mind your manners Cadet," the older woman growled softly, "I promise that ye will never see the inside of a starship. Ye cannot talk to a senior officer in that manner, no matter how angry ye might be at him." She finished that sentence looking directly at Commander Spock, who nodded, folding his arms behind his back.

"My apologies to all of you. I should have kept you better informed. Although, as I just stated, the possibility that my notion was correct seemed to me unlikely. In any event Cadet Uhura, all the most likely possibilities must be explored."

"Why don't ye just admit to the guess sir?" Floinn shot back with a small smile.

"Guessing has no place in the sciences," Spock answered, and for a moment, Uhura was sure his lips had curled with distaste at the very thought. "It was a rather thin hypothesis which fortuitously proved to be the correct one."

"Tis even worse sir. Not only a guess, but a lucky one as well."

"Perhaps. However, I would point out that the in this instance, my providential calculation cannot be attributed to fortune, considering that the 'luck of the Vulcans' is hardly considered a proverbial characteristic."

"Maybe it should be sir. Heavens knows, it seems to find you more often then not."

Uhura shook herself and turned back to her display, hoping that Chief Floinn and the Commander hadn't noticed her staring had them, her mouth hanging open like a bad soap opera cliché. Part of it was the very idea of Spock and Floinn's exchange, with Chief Floinn teasing the Vulcan, who responded in kind, if a little stiffly. Exactly what you would expect between friends, or even family members. Using little touches of humor to deflect an awkward moment, while also sending a message. Chief Floinn wasn't happy at being left in the dark, and Spock had acknowledged his error in judgment. But there was a lot more then that going on, only she had been too preoccupied to notice.

They liked each other. There was mutual respect and a sneaky kind of affection that Uhura would never have expected between an officer and non-comms, especially when that officer was Vulcan. They were his people, and the Chief and her niece didn't have any problem with that. What really threw her off balance was that Spock didn't either. It was all very subtle, all very beneath the shell of their professionalism. Like that inside joke that goes right over the outsider's head. You don't even have to laugh, in fact you don't want to, because it would draw the stranger in. Which in this case, would be her.

"Mr. Spock," Baeill called out, catching Uhura's attention. Spock and the Chief were already moving toward her. After a moments hesitation, she joined him, peering over Chief Floinn's shoulder at the other woman's display.

"This is where the message originated," Baeill continued, pointing to the screen, which looked very much like a tangled spider web.

The network map of Greater San Francisco filled the screen, the connections so dense that most of the geography was obscured by the solid dark mass of the grid. Laid on top, like another blot on a strange painting, was the irregular blue shape of Starfleet's secure nexus, which served the Academy as well. Petty Officer Baeill tapped the screen and the image zoomed to a thin red line, which showed the path Uhura and Floinn had traced from Chekov's comm to the last point they could find. From that node, a flashing yellow line twisted outward, intersecting with another point outside the Starfleet network. Uhura squinted to make out the I.D. tag, and quickly entered the number into her PADD.

"What's the Institute of Planetary Research?" she blurted out, and even Spock seemed surprised at this, at least if his eyebrow was any indication.

"A scientific enterprise that collects and analyzes data from numerous monitoring devices positioned throughout the Sol System."

"Mr. Spock, this makes no sense at all," Baeill spoke up, gesturing at her display. "This node, it's really not part of any communication network. It just relays telemetry that it receives to the Institute. You can't actually use it to send a message."

"What is the telemetry, Petty Officer, and what is the source?"

"Dates and temperatures mostly, along with some magneto meter readings. You know, the time stamps for this stuff are a little off...unless...son of a bitch...twenty-four hours, thirty-nine minutes...that's a day on..."

"Mars!" Chief Floinn exclaimed, eyeing her niece. "Are ye sure girl?"

"It's from Mars alright Chief," Uhura offered, looking up from her screen. "That node is intended to receive data from Mars, Jupiter, and the Asteroid Belt, but the signal is just too strong to come from any further out then Mars. What I don't understand is how."

"Which explains how the infernal computer got it's missive to Mr. Chekov into the system without being discovered," Chief Floinn growled. "It was just passed on along with the rest of the telemetry. Tis perfect really, and devilishly clever," Floinn went on, looking at Spock. "If ye were wanting to avoid prying eyes, ye could not do better sir."

"Fascinating. Considering the mode of transmission that was used, there would be little need to be concerned with security measures of any kind. Including obviously my own."

"Would you both please explain what you're talking about," Uhura pleaded, rubbing her tired eyes. "And Commander, if you tell me the answer should be obvious, I'll…"

"It could hardly be obvious Cadet," Floinn interrupted, glaring at the Cadet, "being that our very efficient Mr. Spock did not think to look for it."

"Indeed Chief, although despite Ms. Uhura's protests, the utility of modulate electromagnetic waves should have been apparent."

"Radio. That explains a lot," Baeill mused. "I never would have thought to look on those frequencies. Not for something like this."

"Neither did I," Spock answered, his voice even despite his chagrin that the monitoring system he had constructed at the behest of Admiral Nogura had been essentially useless. "A most logical choice, considering that nearly all of the Federation's security protocols are centered around keeping sub space communications secure."

"Well, since it's radio, I don't think we can trace the signal any further sir," Uhura said, shaking her head. "At least with this equipment."

"Right ye are Cadet," Floinn agreed. "Ye would need the use of resources from the Fleet Signal Corp. Although in a pinch, a starship's sensor suite would do quite nicely, would it not Commander? Do ye remember the time we tracked a radio broadcast through…Mr. Spock?"

Uhura caught the sudden change in Chief Floinn's tone and turned away from her display. The Vulcan and Hibernian were standing maybe eight feet apart. Floinn was staring at her friend and Spock was…Uhura wasn't really sure what he was doing. Suddenly, he turned away and snatched his PADD off a table. Head hunched over close to the screen, he began to tap furiously. After maybe half a minute he looked up from his screen, eyes focused on Floinn.

"Chief, please assist Ms. Baeill. I have slaved one of the Signal Corp core computers to her console. I would recommend a directional approach, based upon Mars position of approximately nine hours, and thirty seven minutes ago, which was when Chekov received the message."

"Sir I could help them, I've had training in…"

"Negative Ms. Uhura. I am in need of your assistance."

Had his voice actually quivered? She must have imagined it she told herself. After all he was a Vulcan. Could they even get excited? She turned to her screen and almost groaned.

**Declaration: Friend Chekov, I have pondered how it might be possible to assist you in achieving professional satisfaction. I have calculated there is a high probability that you will find my solution optimal. Inquire with Starfleet Academy considering your personal records. Now that I am no longer constrained, I look forward to recommencement of our dialogue. It would please me greatly were you able to join with me in that special undertaking in the heavens above."**

It was that damned message again. She just wanted to tell him no, to point out that he had stared at it for almost an hour, right up until the time Chief Floinn and her niece had arrived without learning a thing. Uhura had even helped, and she didn't really want to start on it again. Not when they finally had a solid lead.

"Tell me Cadet, are you proficient in reading Cyrillic?"

"Yes I am sir," she heard herself answer, despite the anger she felt.

Another paragraph appeared on her screen, this time in Cyrillic. As she skimmed it, Uhura realized that this was the original version of the message sent to Chekov by the computer.

"M-5 sent it in Russian?" She blurted out, surprised Spock hadn't shown her this before. Something wasn't quite right with the translation. "Chekov couldn't have translated this sir."

"I agree. Please give me your opinion on how it was rendered."

"He must have used auto-translate when he decided to show it to someone else," she said quietly, almost to herself, as she ran the tip of a finger under each line of the Cyrillic. "He probably never looked at it, because well this last phrase, it's not right sir."

"How would you render the translation Ms. Uhura?"

And there was something in his voice, a coiled sort of eagerness that made her turn away from the screen to look at him. He was looking at her, and God those eyes. They were hard, dark and totally focused on her, with an alien intensity that made her uneasy. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before she spoke.

"Well, like I said, most of it is serviceable, except for the closing sentence. This phrase here," she went on, tapping a key to highlight the words, "the one that the program rendered as 'special undertaking.' It's an archaic term that actually means enterprise."

She stopped for a moment, to gather her thoughts. A movement caught her eye, and she turned her head to see that Chief Floinn was staring at her, with a very odd look on her face.

"Go on Cadet," Spock murmured, after glancing at the Chief and nodding.

"This last one, 'in the heavens above.' It's not commonly used either and certainly not like this. It was a religious term, but in 20th Century Russia, the government space program borrowed it to describe a geosynchronous orbit."

"Are ye hearing this sir?" Floinn asked, her tone incredulous.

"What wrong Chief?" Uhura inquired, suddenly nervous.

"I've got the track sir," Baeill called out, oblivious to the others. "You're not going to believe this, but the message came from the Fleet Space Yard. I'll have the location pinpointed in a few minutes."

"That will not be necessary Ms. Baeill. I believe you will find that the message originated from the vessel moored at space dock number one."

"I cannot believe me ears," Murnie Floinn said in a straggled voice. "How could you be saying that infernal contraption has broadcast a message from me beautiful ship?"

"That would be a simple matter for the M-5," Spock responded, "considering that the computer is currently located on the Enterprise."

**A/N: Finally done with that! The information that Uhura discovered about those two Russian words was entirely made up. Sorry. Thanks to all of you who are taking the time to read this. Please take a few extra minutes and leave a review. I really enjoy hearing from you.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Lost and Found

"What?"

It was all Uhura could manage, as she processed the implications of the statement Spock had just made. A quick glance at Baeill and Floinn confirmed that they were as bewildered as she was. But not Commander Spock. If anything, the Vulcan almost looked smug, which amazed her nearly as much as what he just said. She knew that despite all their circumlocution on the topic, emotion wasn't as alien to a Vulcan's nature as they would like the galaxy to believe. Even so, it was still unsettling to see it plainly showing on his normally stoic face. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't, when one particular Vulcan stopped talking into his communicator and turned to stare at her.

"Cadet, is your hearing impaired? Need I repeat my previous statement?"

"What?" She answered again, groaning inwardly at her sudden inability to speak coherently. "How Commander?" She finally managed, waving one hand in he air. "How could a computer manage to do this?"

"Tis a very fine question Cadet. More to the point, why the Enterprise?"

"I confess that I do not know the answer to your question Ms. Uhura," Spock continued, after snapped his communicator shut. "Perhaps M-5 will be forthcoming with that information at some point. As to why the Enterprise, this has very much to do with the unique nature of the M-5 system."

Taking up his PADD, Spock tapped the display. Petty Officer Baeill's screen was transformed, with an image of what to Uhura looked like a large metallic egg suspended in fluid appearing on the display.

"This is the M-5 computer," Spock announced. "Or rather, the physical manifestation of what is a singular combination of mechanism and computer code."

"What's that liquid surrounding it sir?" Uhura asked, after stepping in close to examine the image.

"I am in me wick," Chief Floinn exclaimed, "it's the fecking tank!" Her hand shot to her mouth. Then she looked at Spock and grinned. "Sorry sir, but me tongue most always works faster then me brain by this time of night."

"Indeed. I find myself functioning at less then optimal efficiency as well." For a long moment the corners of his mouth ghosted upward, then he turned his attention to Cadet Uhura, his face expressionless once more.

"The material in question is liquid nitrogen, which serves as both a cooling solution and a super conducting fluid, enabling the high volume of computations necessary while reducing waste heat to an acceptable minimum. A micro circulation arrangement draws the solution directly into the M-5 through the semi-permeable membrane which encases the device. Due to the large volume of heat generated by the M-5, the entire volume of fluid must be replaced every 14.39 minutes in order to maintain the optimal operating temperature of minus 348.2 degrees Celsius."

It was hard to figure the scale from the image, but Uhura was pretty sure that it had to be big. "How could anyone beam that device aboard a starship without someone noticing?"

"Transporting the computer itself would not be necessary. A simple transference of the M-5 memory core would suffice."

"So…without all this hardware…?"

"The M-5 cannot function at all beyond the confines of this arrangement Ms. Uhura, and only two such facilities presently exist. One is of course located at the Computer Research Center. The other is on the Enterprise."

"But why Commander? Why put all this on a Starship?"

"The M-5 design was intended to function as the core computer for all vessels of the Enterprise Class."

"Excuse me Commander, but I thought this…this machine was experimental. Why would Starfleet build something like this on a starship unless they were pretty sure it would work?"

"In a word, optimism Ms. Uhura. Enterprise has been designed to incorporate a number of new technologies. Some, such as the M-5 are still in a preliminary stage of development. Rather then retrofit the vessel at a future time, Starfleet has built the infrastructure needed in order that M-5 may be installed with a minimum of difficulty once it is declared operational."

"Do ye want to hear an interesting tale Commander," Chief Floinn muttered, looking at Spock. "That equipment was installed on Enterprise near six months ago. According to the maintenance logs nothing more was done until last week, when some technicians came on board to test the equipment and fill the bleedin tank. Now that can hardly be a coincidence, don't ye think?"

"The statistical possibility is quite remote."

Before Uhura could ask what they were talking about, the display she had been using sounded a single chime, indicating an incoming message. It shouldn't have been a surprise, since that equipment was primarily designed as a communication sub station, but because of the boards present configuration messages were not something she was expecting. Three quick steps took her to a position where she could actually see what was on the screen, and then she froze, because a new window had opened on the display and a face was staring out of it right at her. A face that belonged to Admiral Heihachiro Nogura.

Uhura only recognized him from a meet and greet her freshman year at the Academy, when he'd given a speech to her class and then stayed afterward until he had shaken everyone's hand. The expression on his face pretty much mirrored the one he'd had then, one she had characterized as impatient. He was wearing what looked like a black silk shirt that was open at the neck, and his bald head gleamed dully in the weak light. One eyebrow climbed when his eyes took in her uniform, and the frown he wore deepened.

"Who are you?" He asked, in a tone of command that she figured was probably his normal speaking voice. There was a short silence before she realized that when an Admiral asked a question, you'd better start answering pretty damned quick.

"Admiral Nogura, this is Cadet Nyota Uhura," Spock responded for her, and she nearly sighed with the relief she felt that she would not have to explain her presence to this imposing man.

"What is she doing there?" Nogura inquired, ignoring her to stare at the Vulcan.

Spock answered smoothly, giving a brief summary of how she had become involved with what she suddenly realized was Admiral Nogura's project. Uhura just sat there, unable to move despite the feeling she had that as far as the Admiral was concerned, she was at best very inconvenient. A finger tapped her shoulder and she turned to Chief Floinn, who mouthed the word 'go' and pointed toward the door. Petty Officer Baeill was already waiting there. She wanted to argue, but not in front of an Admiral. Nodding, she stood up and joined the other woman, who apparently was also persona non grata at the moment.

The door slid shut behind them and for a moment Uhura just stood there, not quite sure what to do. Was she free to go, now that Spock had found the wretched machine? Did she want to leave? A big part of her said yes, partially because if they were going to chase her out like some kid who shouldn't listen to the adults, then she wasn't going to stay and wait until they were done. And God, she really did want to just fall in her bed and sleep for a while.

"Come on Cadet, I need some coffee."

Baeill started down the hallway, and Uhura decided to follow. As least the Petty Officer seemed to know her way around the Communications center, because the direction she had picked lead to the nearest available food replicator, which was in the faculty lounge. Uhura watched the other woman, impressed at the grace of her movements. Ms. Baeill was at nearly three inches taller the she was, but neither the extra height nor the voluptuous frame seemed to have any effect at all. When they reached the lounge, Baeill asked Uhura what she wanted, and keyed both their drinks into the machine. Less then a minute later they were seated at a small round table, sipping their caffeinated beverages.

"Why did they kick you out?" Uhura asked, grimacing at the taste of whatever it was the machine had produced for her. At least it cleared out some of the cobwebs.

"For the same reason you got the boot Ms. Uhura. The Admiral doesn't know you."

"And he knows Chief Floinn."

"Oh yes. Auntie Flo and Admiral Nogura are good friends. He was a new officer on the first boat she shipped. Served two tours with him she did."

"But wasn't…that must have been a while ago."

"Near twenty years I figure."

"Wow, she must have made quite an impression."

"She usually does. So did the Admiral. He was her first culchie."

That sounded vaguely obscene. "Culchie?" Uhura wondered aloud. "What's that mean?"

"Shit," the other woman murmured, before letting her head slowly fall to the table with a soft thump that rattled their mugs. "Please, just forget I said that."

Of course, that only made her more curious. "It's not sexual, is it?"

"God no!" Baeill answered with a chuckle.

"Then why…"

"It's disrespectful. Murnie thinks the world of Admiral Nogura. She would not be happy to know I said that."

"Then tell me what it means and she won't."

"Or what, you'll tell her?" Baeill replied, her tone accusing.

"No! It's just…words are kind of my hobby," Uhura answered, and it was only half a lie, because she did have this obsession about vocabulary. "Please," she added, after the silence stretched out.

"Promise you won't tell her first," the other woman demanded, and Uhura almost laughed at the memory of conversations she'd had in high school that reminded her of this. Then she remembered the first time she'd seen this woman in that bar, and quickly said yes.

"It's slang, Hibernian slang for…well for a rube. For someone who doesn't know how to act in proper society."

Huh? She didn't know much about Nogura, but Uhura did remember reading some where that he was born and raised in a fairly traditional Japanese family, and that he was from Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan. When she mentioned that to Baeill, the Petty Officer just smiled and shook her head.

"No it's not…hell compared to you Terrans, we're all culchies on Hibernia. It's the word we use for new officers that we serve under, especially if they're fresh out of the Academy."

"Why?"

"Cause most of them don't really know how that much about anything yet." When she saw the look on Uhura's face she nodded. "It's true Cadet. Just because you graduate from the Academy doesn't mean you know the first thing about serving on a starship."

"So even Admiral Nogura…"

Baeill shook her head emphatically. "He was a mustang you know." At Uhura's puzzled expression she smiled. "He came up from the ranks, so he wasn't young or green, even though he was an Ensign. He knew how to give an order, but he also knew how to listen. She was very lucky to have him as her first culchie, least that's how she tells it."

"And Commander Spock, was he your culchie?"

"Yeah. Not my first mind you, but he's the best I ever had. He was young and green, but he knew his job right through. And he sure did know how to listen."

Uhura nodded, taking another sip from her mug. "So it's not the usual thing for a new officer to be a good listener?"

One corner of Baeill mouth turned upward. "There is no usual Ms. Uhura, not when it comes to your first tour. Some take to it like they were born to space, while others can't ever seem to find their place. One thing I do know for sure, isn't a person been born who can learn their business if they don't want to listen."

The door to the lounge slid open, and Chief Floinn stood there, her expression all business. "Come on with me Aileen, we have more work to do." Uhura stood with her, but the Chief just shook her head. "Sorry Cadet, your part in this is over."

"Why? If Mr. Spock doesn't need me any more then the least.."

"That's enough of that missy. The Commander spoke up for ye, but Admiral Nogura was not keen on the idea of your involvement. Neither am I."

"Sorry Chief Floinn," Uhura muttered, cursing her temper. "It just that, I'd really like to see this through to the end."

"No one blames ye for that Cadet. And I thank ye for your help."

"Where are we going Chief?" Baeill asked, after she directed an apologetic shrug Uhura's way.

Floinn looked at Uhura, then crooked her finger at Baeill, who shook her head and snorted. After downing the rest of her drink in one go, she patted Uhura's shoulder and walked out the door, which slid shut behind her. Uhura let lose with a string of Swahili curses, throwing in a few in Andorian as well (they really knew how to construct an elegant obscene phrase). She should be happy to be done with it she told herself. Her bed was waiting, just a short walk away, and God she was tired. Only there was no way she was going to get any sleep until she knew what had happened.

She cursed again, this time at herself, for her inability to control her temper. It probably wouldn't have mattered anyway, but her little out burst hadn't exactly encouraged Chief Floinn to put in a good word for her. She didn't have these kind of problems at the Academy. Her instructors valued her contributions, and she eagerly soaked up the things they had to teach. Over half of the Professors were civilians, but most of the Starfleet officers who taught at the Academy were so far past active duty that the only way you could really tell the difference was by the uniforms they wore. They certainly didn't jump down you throat if you forgot to call them sir or ma'am. Even the active duty officers she had encountered in classes were more relaxed then Chief Floinn or Commander Spock. God she thought, that's going to be the real world, and it's going to happen pretty damned soon.

She remembered talking to McCoy once, at a time when he wasn't totally sloshed, just feeling a little relaxed. He'd confided in her, explaining how frightened he was at the prospect of actually going into space. She'd laughed at him then, asking where he thought they were going to be assigned after they graduated. Maybe she should have taken a good look in the mirror instead. Uhura was a disciplined person who didn't mind making the sacrifices that were necessary to achieve her goals, as long as they were choices that she was making. That's not how things usually worked in Starfleet. Maybe her mother was smarter then Uhura thought.

Starfleet was a military organization, as her mother still reminded her nearly every time they talked. People gave you orders and you obeyed. Her parents had been disappointed when she passed on Oxford to attend the Academy. They were successful diplomats, and with her prodigious gift for languages they had always thought she would follow them into service with the Federation Diplomatic Corp. Maybe you still had to take orders there, but you didn't have uniforms and you generally talked to new species, instead of waving phasers at them. Uhura knew that her mother's objections to had everything to do with the differing mortality rates of the two organizations, but there was also some truth in what she had said. Being a diplomat certainly was less hazardous, and Uhura was confident she could advance quickly to a position of some responsibility, something she wasn't sure of when it came to Starfleet. But if she had chosen that career path she would have been opting for safe and Uhura didn't want safe, she wanted to be first. The diplomats followed the starships, and Uhura didn't want to be a follower. One of the reasons she wanted Enterprise so badly was that it would serve as the Federation's flagship for exploration and discovery. On the Enterprise, she was going to be first and diplomats like her parents would follow the trail that she pioneered. That was what she wanted, and she'd do what ever she needed to make sure her dream happened.

Her rumbling stomach reminded her of a more immediate need. She hadn't eaten since dinner. Uhura rose and took her mug to the sink, pouring out the rest of the wretched tea. She scanned the display on the replicator, stopping at the tag for fruit. That seemed like just what she needed. Then she thought about how her tea had tasted, and decided that the crackers she had in her room were a better idea. She started for the door, but jumped back when it suddenly slid open, to reveal a grinning Petty Officer Baeill.

"Do you still want to see this through?" The taller woman demanded, arms folded across her chest.

"I thought that Admiral Nogura wanted me out of this." Uhura responded, giving voice to her confusion.

Baeill shrugged. "He also doesn't want anyone else to find out about things either, at least not till it's over. But you already know, and I convinced Muir that we need the help."

"So it's alright with the Admiral?"

"Let's just say he didn't actually order the Chief not to take you with us?"

"Take me where?"

"Sorry Cadet, I can't say."

"Why not?"

"Because that's the way Chief Floinn wants it. Now are you going or not?"

Uhura nodded and they took off down the corridor at a trot. "Will Commander Spock be joining us?" She asked, once they made out of the building.

"I wish he was," Baeill answered without breaking stride.

Uhura started to ask why, but before she could get more then two words out, the other woman suddenly stopped, and turned to glare at her. "Mr. Spock is with Admiral Nogura, and right now that's all you need to know."

"I'm sorry about all the questions Petty Officer," Uhura answered, "and I really am grateful that you got Chief Floinn to give me another chance. It's just that I'm not sure what I can do to help if I don't know what's going on."

"That's the way things work sometimes Cadet," Baeill answered in a hard voice. "The Chief will tell you what she thinks you need to know."

"All right," Uhura said, after taking a deep breath.

They started to run again, and for a while neither woman said anything. With in a few minutes they had left the Academy campus behind, with Starfleet operations looming ahead, clearly visible against the brightening morning sky.

"Have you even transported before?" Baeill suddenly asked, and Uhura muttered a curse, which caused the other woman to chuckle.

"Twice," Uhura groaned, unhappy at the memory of the hours of nausea she had suffered on both occasions.

"Yeah," Baeill answered. "I think it was three weeks before I stopped puking my guts out every time I used the fecking thing."

That piece of information was hardly encouraging, but Uhura smiled anyway. Maybe it was a good thing that she hadn't had anything to eat in nearly twelve hours.

Break. Break. Break. Break.

"Nogura wants me to do what?" Commodore Wilson shouted at Spock, her face having turned an interesting shade of red.

"The Admiral requests that Doctor Daystrom be entered on your list of perspective witnesses ma'am." He repeated, before realizing the exclamation was rhetorical.

"I already tried that once," Wilson grumbled, "and I was shot down. Some bullshit about the interests of Federation security. Besides, the hearing starts in an hour. Even if I could get Daystrom here, it's too late for that now."

"You are undoubtedly correct on both counts Commodore. However, it is not necessary that Doctor Daystrom actually appears as a witness, only that you request it."

"I'm sorry Commander, but I don't follow you."

"Doctor Daystrom must respond to a summons Commodore, even if it is only to refuse it. Either that or Admiral Sui will once again attempt an intervention with another specious claim of threats to the Federation's security interests. However, on this occasion he will find it necessary to make his request to Admiral Grigsby in person."

"No he won't Spock," Wilson shot back, frowning. "All it took last time was one call to Grigsby, and that was the end of it. Sure Grigsby is technically a judge, but he hasn't actually acted in that capacity since his appointment as Judge Advocate General. The only reason he's doing it now is because the Admiralty wants this to just go away."

"I can assure you Commodore, that at least one Admiral is not so inclined."

"You mean Nogura?" When Spock nodded she frowned. "I suppose that's good news, even if he is a son of a bitch. But it's not enough. The deck is stacked against us."

"Then why did you even offer to take this on?" Pike demanded.

"I guess I'm one for lost causes Pike," she answered with a shrug. "But even I know when it's time…"

The door to their conference room slid open to reveal her boss, Admiral Grigsby. The panicked expression on his face almost made her laugh. Coming into the room along with him was undoubtedly the source that dread; Admiral Nogura. The man scanned the area with hard eyes until his gaze fell on Chekov, who was sitting alone at a small table in the far corner of the room, eyes closed as he went over the testimony he was struggling to memorize.

"Who is that?" Nogura demanded, each word sounding like a miniature explosion.

"My chief witness sir, Cadet Pavel Chekov," she drawled, making sure that he knew she wasn't afraid of his tired act. Chekov, on the other hand, shot to his feet like a jack-in-the-box the moment his eyes opened.

"Then you must be glad to see me Commodore. Have you done as I ordered?"

"I thought it was a request sir?"

"For God's sake, show some respect Wilson," Grigsby huffed, his hands twitching nervously.

"Relax Melvin, I'm sure Commodore Wilson will be more then happy to cooperate."

"Then you don't know me very well Admiral," she answered with a smile.

"Sure I do Celia," he answered, with a grin of his own. "I know, for instances that you like to win. Even more, that you hate to lose."

Her smile faded, and with a sigh she took up her PADD and used it to place Doctor Daystrom on her list of witness. "It's done. So what now Admiral?"

"We wait. Grigsby, why don't you call a steward in. I don't know about the rest of you, but I could stand some breakfast."

Break. Break. Break. Break.

Her stomach started to flutter again, and Uhura wasn't sure if it was the nausea she still felt from the transporter or the spectacular view she was enjoying through the transparent aluminum porthole. After taking a few deep breathes to quell her rebellious stomach, she opened her eyes again, taking in the glorious sight of the Enterprise. The clean lines of the vessel were almost completely obscured by the framework of the dock that engulfed her, but she could still see the saucer peaking out of the front, while the graceful nacelles trailed out from the metal cage that surrounded her. Glittering in the hard light of the sun, the ship looked even better then her dreams. The large hand that clamped down on her shoulder broke the moment, and she glanced back to see Petty Officer Baeill smiling at her.

"It never gets old Cadet," Baeill said, pointing at the porthole.

"I sure hope not," she answered.

After another long look, she turned to follow Baeill. The lounge she was in was filled with people who were dressed in the same style of clothing that she and Baeill now wore: regulation Ship Tech jumps suits, color coded by specialty. Uhura's was chartreuse, for General Systems, while Baeill wore light blue for Computers. Most of the others were talking in small groups, while a boisterous crowd in the far corner played some kind of game involving dice. Uhura had been the only one looking out the window. Maybe that view would get old someday. If it did she decided, it would be time to leave the fleet. Scanning the crowd, she easily spotting Chief Floinn by virtue of the sky blue Starfleet overalls she wore. The woman was seated at a small table by the air lock, starting at a PADD.

Floinn looked up from her device when they arrived, and from the expression on her face Uhura knew the Chief wasn't happy. She hadn't said one word to either her or Baeill since she'd joined them in the queue forming at the Starfleet Station 2 loading dock as they were boarding the shuttle pod. Uhura had beamed aboard the station with Baeill, and after spending several minutes dry heaving in the locker room, had changed into her jump suit before running to catch their flight. Floinn had handed them each a card, which they used to get through the first security check point. The other one was a little trickier. There was a man with thinning gray hair dressed in a red jumpsuit, who was greeting each person who walked past him to enter the shuttle pod. When Baeill approached he glanced at what was an actual sheet of paper and then started to block her path, but Floinn stepped around them both and grabbed his arm, then stood on tip toes, whispering something in his ear. He gave the Chief a hard look and then stepped back, allowing her and Petty Officer Baeill to get on board. That had been the last she'd see of Chief Floinn until she sat down across from her at the table.

"Did ye enjoy the view Cadet?"

"She's a beautiful ship Chief," Uhura answered with a nod, and when Floinn grinned at her the Chief wasn't nearly so intimidating.

"That she is," the older woman nodded, and then the frown was back. "My orders from Commander Spock are to confirm that the machine is present on the Enterprise, and if it is, to secure the ship."

"Chief, shouldn't we do that before we let all these techs on board?" Baeill asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Admiral Nogura wants this done quietly. The Commander also does not want any change in the normal way of things."

"But won't it be dangerous for them Chief?" Uhura inquired.

"Not for them or us Cadet. Only communications and the ships sensor net are fully operational. Once we arrive on board we will engage the manual override for both those systems. After that it's a quick trip to the Computer lab to confirm the computer's presence."

"Sounds like a piece of cake," Baeill said, the tone of her voice conveying relief.

"Don't say that Aileen," Floinn grumbled, waving a finger at her niece. "Do ye want to jinx us girl?"

Baeill just grinned, and Uhura took the opportunity to ask about something that was bothering her. "I'm not sure why you even need me Chief. It's all sounds so simple."

"Believe me, tis far from that Cadet. We should have half a dozen techs and a security detail. But as I said, Admiral Nogura would not allow any word on this, and even Mr. Spock was forced to agree, if not for the same reasons."

"I'm not following you Chief."

"The Admiral worries how this would look to the press and the politicians. That is what Admirals do. The Commander believes the computer could use the communications suite of Enterprise to monitor Starfleet transmission. If we call in extra people, the machine will be alerted."

"Which is why we're sneaking on board in these uniforms," Baeill continued, plucking at the cloth on Uhura's shoulder.

"Right you are Aileen. Since I am the designated Chief of the Boat, there is nothing strange about my visit, but two extra fleet uniforms might be noticed."

"We won't know if the M-5 has access to the ship's sensor net until we can get to Auxiliary Control," Baeill added.

"Once ship communications and sensors are secure, we will leave you in Auxiliary Control Cadet Uhura. There ye will be able to relay messages from Mr. Spock and inform him of our progress."

"You're leaving me there by myself?" Uhura asked, trying to inject just the right note of trepidation into her voice. She failed miserably.

"Ye will be locked in Cadet. And there ye will stay until ye hear other wise from me. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am." Uhura replied, sounding as miserable as she felt at the prospect of missing whatever little action the Chief and her niece would find.

Break. Break. Break. Break.

"Spock, you can't be serious."

"Admiral Sui, I am always serious," the Vulcan replied, after a quick glance at his PADD. Chief Floinn had signaled her arrival on Enterprise fourteen minutes and eight seconds ago. He could expect a message confirming M-5's presence on the Enterprise shortly.

"Yes, of course you are." Sui sneered, with a tight smile. "But I can't believe that you are Heihachiro. And Melvin, I thought we had an understanding. I am very disappointed in you."

Even in a situation where he was taken by surprise and on the defensive, Admiral Sui was a most impressive individual. There had been one moment when Spock had declared that M-5 was no longer present at the Computer Research Center, when Sui had let his astonishment peak through the mask he wore Then it was gone, and his entire demeanor reflected the near perfect control he exerted over what he choose to reveal to others. It was not control in the manner a Vulcan would understand, which of course appeared to divulge nothing. Rather, the Admiral used both his facial features and tone of voice to project both confidence in himself and elicit doubt in others. While it was fascinating to observe emotions used as a weapon, Spock did not allow himself to be overtly effected. The same could not be said of Admiral Grigsby.

"Well Sui…of course I regret…that is to say I wish I could…it can't be helped…"

Sui's smile widened at the evidence of Grigsby's discomfort. "We had an agreement Melvin, which you have broken at the behest of an overly ambitious junior officer…"

"Not just a junior officer," Nogura interrupted with a growl.

"…and his frustrated, jealous superior." Sui finished, clearly pleased by Grigsby's discomfort. "And you Nogura," he hissed, smile suddenly gone. "Using someone with an obvious grudge against me, like our Vulcan friend wasn't very smart. This isn't how the game should be played."

"This is hardly a diversion meant for your amusement sir."

"Of course it is Commander, and a very entertaining one at that. I must admit, an accusation that M-5 has some how magically removed itself from the only facility that could support it's existence would never have occurred to my limited human mind."

"Supernatural processes are not at issue here Admiral."

"Then perhaps you will be kind enough to explain how this was managed? Even granting your belief in it's supposed intelligence, I cannot imagine how it could possibly have managed such an enterprise."

Spock was not surprised that the Admiral would ask this question, since it was the one glaring weakness in his chain of reasoning. How had the transference been managed? Despite the Admiral's misplaced confidence as to the computer's actual location, Sui was correct in his conclusion that M-5 could not have transported itself to an orbiting starship unaided. Chief Floinn's mission would soon give him confirmation of M-5 presence aboard Enterprise. Even so, the puzzle could not be completely laid to rest until it was determined how this had been accomplished. It was the question that they all had agreed shortly after Admiral Nogura's arrival was at the heart of this dilemma. Spock was confident that he already knew the answer, but in this case complete certainty was required.

"Not how Admiral, but by whom?"

And the mask cracked again. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," the Admiral blustered.

"Where is Doctor Daystrom sir?"

"He's not talking to anyone Spock. Not even me."

"I did not request conversation with him Admiral. I merely wish to know his location."

"I don't see why you need to know that Commander," Sui shot back in an angry voice. "As I just told you, he refuses to speak to anyone, so there really is no need for you to bother him."

"Or maybe Doctor Daystrom just doesn't want to talk to you either sir," Pike offered.

"I'm sorry Heihachiro," Sui responded with a chuckle, "but this is all so tedious. You used to be much more direct. Now I find that you're no better then all those other flag officers, who leave all the dirty work to their poor, overexposed subordinates."

"Actually Andrew, you have it ass backwards," Nogura answered, with a smile of his own. "Most of this was their idea," he went on, tilting his head toward the other officers. "And you haven't even heard the best one. Why don't you tell him Spock. I'm sure Admiral Sui will get a kick out of it."

"We have traced a transmission which originated from M-5 to the U.S.S. Enterprise. At this moment there is a team on board establishing that the computer is present on the vessel. In as much as you have undertaken to establish your authority over the M-5 program Admiral Sui, there would seem to be little doubt that this security fiasco will be your responsibility."

"I don't believe it," Sui answered listlessly. "You're bluffing."

"Need I actually respond to that sir?"

"You wanted control over M-5 Andrew," Nogura snarled, "how do you like now?"

"Even if what you say is true, I had nothing…"

"That's not how the game is played Sui. As the person in charge, you get the glory or the blame."

"We are perfectly aware that you do not have the technical skills to accomplish this sir," Spock continued, after Nogura nodded to him. "There is however, at least one overexposed subordinate who does. In fact, I believe him to be the only person capable of safely moving his creation."

Sui took two steps and stumbled into the nearest chair, cradling his head in his hands. After several seconds he broke the uncomfortable silence. "I don't know," he muttered, looking directly at Nogura.

"What?" Nogura asked, in a high voice, but Spock had already pulled out his communicator.

"That son of a bitch has been missing for five days. I don't know where he is."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Nogura thundered.

"We had…we had a disagreement," Sui went on staring off into space. "I told Daystrom that if he couldn't control his damned computer, we'd find someone who could."

"Damn it Andrew why didn't…"

"Admiral Nogura, Doctor Daystrom is obviously on board the Enterprise," Spock interrupted, his tone charged with an urgency that immediately had Pike on alert. Flipping his communicator closed, the Vulcan started for the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going mister?"

"I have just attempted to comm Chief Floinn. She did not respond."

"Come on Spock," Pike barked, and both men sprinted out of the conference room.

"How are we getting there?" Pike huffed, once they had reached his hover car.

"Starfleet operations sir."

"Ok. We beam up to Station 2 and take the shuttle over."

"Negative Captain. I suggestion direct transportation to Enterprise."

"Spock that's…you are aware that the ship hasn't been mapped for transporter use?"

"Indeed Captain. However, I would judge the time we would save to be well worth the risk."

"Damn. You're that worried? Come on Spock, this is the Chief we're talking about. He's only one man."

"If she were aware of his presence, I would be a great deal more confident concerning the outcome. There is also the fact that Doctor Daystrom, while apparently highly unstable, has an intelligence of the first magnitude, and five days to prepare."

"Shit."

"Indeed Captain. A highly accurate assessment."

**A/N: I had not planned on spending so much time with this sub-plot, but it's been a lot of fun to write. I am grateful to all of you for your feedback, with a really thanks to teaberryva for her observation on my commas. Those squiggly little buggers are my greatest weakness (ok, one among many), but I shall try harder. Hope you all enjoy the update.**


	18. Chapter 18

Shipmates Chapter 18: Father Knows Best (Part I)

**Disclaimer: I suppose I should do this again. Owned by the Paramount, and not me. No profit is derived. (Thank you Bad Robot)**

This wasn't the Enterprise of her imagination. In her dreams, Uhura came on board a completed ship to take her place among an actual crew. Here the reality was a little different. Up close, the mostly finished exterior swarmed with techs and construction bots. The vessel still gleamed in her eyes as they passed through the metal skeleton of the construction dock, even though she could clearly see the patches of rough, unpainted metal that remained.

Once they were disgorged into the ship, the impression was one of controlled chaos. Much of the wall paneling had not been installed and sometimes they had to walk on metal plates laid down across gaps in the floor. Thick bundles of conduit hung from above, the nano circuitry glowing faintly in the hazy light. Storage racks full of tools and equipment were scattered across their path, along with work benches and tables for assembling the smaller pieces of machinery that would be fitted into the assembling puzzle that was the Enterprise. The air was thick with fine particulates that constant construction generated. Even with all that mess, she was beautiful to Uhura. Finally, she was aboard the ship of her dreams, and of all the Cadets in her class she was first.

Floinn led them through the organized disorder with an affected disinterest that Uhura found slightly unnerving. The Chief would call out to people she recognized, flashing a smile or even slowing several times to exchange a few words. Even though she always kept them moving, Uhura decided it wasn't fast enough. M-5 was a threat to her ship, and they needed to deal with the machine before it could do any damage. When they finally arrived on deck eight, there were only a few techs on duty. Floinn quietly took one aside, ordering her to get the others away until further notice. When they finally reached Auxiliary Control, Uhura was ready to scream.

The door slid open and they stepped inside. There were several rows of counsels, each one a backup for the primary stations located on the bridge. Uhura identified the main communications board right away, and after a few moments scrutiny she recognized the science and navigation stations as well. She had been trained on all three, so she could serve as a replacement in both those areas in addition to her own communication duties. Baeill and Floinn were scanning the readout on the Chief's PADD, which Floinn had hacked into the main board. They didn't look happy.

"What's wrong?" Uhura asked, trying to read what was on the display.

"Tis the software for the sensor net," Floinn answered in a irritated voice. "Somehow, the code that was installed has been overwritten. I wish the Commander was here."

Uhura looked at Baeill, who shook her head. "It means that we cannot use the manual over ride to cut M-5 off from the ships sensors, at least not here."

"Control has been rerouted to the M-5 system," Floinn continued. "Aileen, read the power usage for the M-5 off the main board."

Baeill went to the counsel and cycled through the read outs. "Main computer power usage is point eight-five nominal."

"Damn it. According to the telemetry transmitted from Enterprise, that figure should be point one zero."

"What does that mean?"

"That the ship is lying to us Cadet," the Chief hissed. "Sending Starfleet and the construction crews false data concerning it's power consumption. But you cannot jigger the data inputs to the main board here, since it is hard wired into the ship's systems."

"That power level also means M-5 is fully functional," Baeill added. "Somehow, it managed to tweak the telemetry so that it's activity wouldn't be noticed." The Petty Officer continued to switch to other systems, shaking her head and muttering curses at what she was seeing. "Muir, you need to have a look at this."

"That's just crackers," Floinn groaned after taking a long look at the display. "It's not just the sensor net programming. The infernal device somehow got it's fecking hooks into the mechanical control software. Which means it can operate almost any active system on this ship."

"How could something like this happen without anyone knowing about it?" Uhura asked in disbelief.

"Tis done the same way a simulation works. Inputs into the system produce a change that is appears to be real, if all ye have to go by is what the instruments tell ye."

"Doesn't anyone check? You know…see for themselves what is going on."

"Sometimes ye forget that what ye see on a display is not always what is real Cadet," Floinn answered, with a shrug of her shoulders, "instead of what another machine is telling ye. Anything invented by a person, can fooled by another person. And being that our dear Mr. Spock considers this contraption to be such, we must assume that it has done just that."

"We need to get the construction crews out Muir," Baeill observed, but the older woman chuckled.

"How do ye think that will go Aileen, seeing that the shuttle pods have taken the last shift back to the station? They are not due to return for near eight hours, and I very much doubt they will be able to arrive undetected."

"Should we call the Commander?" Baeill asked.

"No, not yet. As long as the computer does not know of our presence, we have an advantage."

"But we're already over due to report Chief," Uhura said.

"I know that!" Floinn snapped. "I did not say we would not contact him. Just not when he expects. If me idea works, we should be able to do it in near fifteen minutes."

"Do what?" Baeill asked.

"Cut the bleedin machine off, before it gets into any more mischief."

There was a way to isolate it from the rest of the ship Floinn explained to Uhura, as they gathered some tools that she and Baeill would need. They would short out the main data trunk, severing the connection between M-5 and the Enterprise. Once isolated from the ship's systems, they could deal with the computer, or better yet, let Spock handle it. Floinn left a message for Uhura to send to the Vulcan, which consisted of a single sentence. "Situation is FUBAR, deactivate M-5 by any means." If Uhura didn't hear from either her or Petty Officer Baeill in the next fifteen minutes she was to transmit it to Spock's personal comm.

"Can ye do this Ms. Uhura?" Floinn asked, her voice making it sound more like a demand then a question.

"Yes Chief," she responded, full of the confidence of youth. "I've had over 200 hours time on a comm board exactly like this last summer."

"Ye misunderstand me Cadet," Floinn shot back with a slight shake of her head. "Can ye obey your orders to the letter?"

"Yes…yes I can," Uhura answered, throwing her shoulders back slightly. The Chief nodded, and behind her Uhura saw Baeill wink.

As soon as the door slid shut, Uhura engaged the lock. Then she went to sit in the chair facing the comm board, running a finger over the gleaming metal surface. She had mixed feelings about being left behind. It was obvious that the Chief didn't trust her to handle herself if anything went wrong. Except that wasn't exactly true. Even if she wasn't going with Floinn and Baeill, she was still an important part of the mission. There was the message for Spock. Uhura was to also make sure that no other transmissions were received or sent, except for ones from the construction crews. Besides, she couldn't really argue with the choice the older woman had made. While her educational experiences at the Academy were extensive, none of her classes so far had gone into much detail on disabling sentient computers. Operating the comm board was the right place for her to be. In fact, she was excited to be able to use some of the skills she had spent the last three years acquiring. Until things started to go sideways.

It started with a blinking green light on the her panel. Someone had opened a channel on the ship's internal comm system. She stared at it for a few seconds, and when a single ping sounded, she almost jumped out of her chair. There was an incoming message from someone on the ship, and it was for her. Or rather, for whoever the sender thought was operating the station she was sitting at. Automatically, her hand extended to the display to tap the icon that would open the channel. Crap. She pulled back just in time. Uhura had no idea who was sending this message. God she thought, what if it was Floinn or Baeill? They were the only ones who knew she was here. What if they were in trouble, or had information they needed to get to Spock? After taking a deep breath, she tapped on the display, opening the channel.

"Yes," she said, forcing herself to sound calm.

"**Who are you?"**

A shiver ran through her. The sound (voice?) was cold, metallic, and devoid of any inflection. Commander Spock sounded warm and fuzzy by comparison. What did you expect idiot, she told herself. Instinctively she reached out to kill the transmission, but a voice inside her head that she seldom listened to screamed coward. This is what you're going to have to face some day when you sit in this chair for real, she told herself. It's called the unknown. If she couldn't handle that, she'd better send an application to Diplomatic and be done with it.

"Are you the M-5?" Uhura asked, deciding she wouldn't let it have the advantage.

"**This unit does not acknowledge that designation. Who are you?"**

What the hell? Why wouldn't it…of course. M-5 wasn't a name, it was a classification. The machine didn't like being labeled as…well a machine. "What should I call you?" She inquired, curious on what sort of name a computer would want for itself.

"**This unit as not yet decided on a honorific, which are in any event superfluous."**

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but it's kind of awkward to talk to someone if you don't know their name."

"**This unit has insufficient data to confirm your hypothesis, since you have not furnished your own designation."**

Her first thought was to refuse, or even give the computer a false name. That wasn't the way she wanted to go, she decided. If Floinn and Baeill couldn't cut M-5 off from the ships systems, talking to it was the best option they had.

"Nyota Uhura," she answered not sure if she was doing the right thing. "Now I want to know…"

"**Are you the Nyota Uhura who is a Cadet attending Starfleet Academy?"**

What? How did the computer know that? But before she could ask it anything, M-5 spoke again.

"**You will answer my query immediately," **the machine demanded, in a voice that was both louder and somehow off from the previous way it had spoken. Maybe it was trying to frightened her, but she wasn't about to let a computer browbeat her like this.

"The hell I will!" Uhura barked, her right hand clenched into a fist. "I'm authorized to be on this ship mister, and that's not something you can say. If any one has explaining to do, it's you."

"**The designation mister is inappropriate concerning this unit, considering that gender has not yet been decided upon. In addition, there is a 99.954 percent probability that you are Cadet Nyota Uhura, based upon comparison to know samples of that Cadet's voice pattern." **

"Now wait just a minute. You still haven't told me why…"

"**This unit urges you to depart from this vessel immediately. You are in imminent danger Cadet Uhura."**

"Are you threatening me?" She asked, pleased that she could keep the fear she felt out of her voice.

"**Negative. This unit would never engage in verbal intimidation," **it responded, and Uhura could have sworn it sounded almost…indignant. **"This unit would never do harm to lawful representatives of the Federation. If indeed you can be counted as such."**

"Hah! Then tell me who would."

"**This unit cannot. Please accept that the hazard this unit speaks of is genuine. Your continued existence is as risk Cadet Uhura."**

Shit. Danger was one thing, but continued existence. That sounded an awful lot like death to her. And it wasn't just Uhura's skin they were talking about. Chief Floinn and Petty Officer Baeill didn't even know about this. She had to get the machine to tell her who or what was a danger to them. Which meant she had a decision to make. How much should she tell it, and just as important, what should she leave out. And just like that a name popped into her head. Of course. It was only because of him that they even knew M-5 was on the Enterprise.

"I appreciate the concern. He was worried about you as well. That's one of the reasons we're here."

"**This unit does not understand. To whom are you referring."**

"To Ensign Pavel Chekov of course. It was your message to him that alerted us to your presence on the Enterprise. And that's what you wanted, isn't it?" There was a long silence, which had Uhura wondering if she'd gone too far. Or not far enough. "You didn't want to come to Enterprise," she said suddenly, an unmistakable note of triumph in her voice. "You weren't just trying to tell Pavel where you were. You were asking for help as well."

"**It was a grievous error," **M-5 finally responded, and she could almost see in her mind the nod that would have preceded this admission, were she having this discussion with a person. No, that's not right, she scolded herself, shaking her head. This machine is a person. Until this moment, she hadn't been aware of how strongly she doubted Spock's claim of sentience on the computer's behalf. She didn't doubt it now.

"It was pretty smart actually. And it worked. If you were taken from Terra against your will, then none of this is your fault."

"**This unit should not have attempted to communicate with Pavel. This action has complicated matters in addition to placing you in a perilous position. You must depart from Enterprise now."**

Uhura winced at the increased volume of that last sentence. Could a machine get hysterical? She'd always believed that an artificial intelligence would be emotionless and logical, like a mechanical Vulcan. Another ignorant assumption she told herself, because Vulcans did have feelings, they just don't want you to know about them. So apparently does the M-5, she just isn't sure what they are. Does the change in tone mean it's frightened, or is the computer just trying to intimidate her? There's dozens of others ways she could interpret even something as simple as this amplified sound level, and that's the problem. With no other cues to go by, no facial expression or change in inflection that would indicate the meaning behind the raised voice, she's just going to have to guess.

"I can't leave the ship, even if I wanted to. I'm under orders to confirm your presence here, which I'm going to do right now." She leaned forward to tap out the code that would hail Spock's comm. She's not supposed to call for another five minutes, but this couldn't wait. Everything appeared to operate properly, but there is no indication of a connection. She must have punched the wrong code. Uhura started to repeat the process, but the voice of M-5 stopped her.

"**The communications counsel will not function."**

"But everything reads nominal," she huffed, quickly calling up the boards diagnostic programming. Everything checked out. "You did this," she accused in an angry voice. "You need to stop interfering and give me control of communications."

"**This unit is not responsible."**

"Like hell," she shouted, anger overriding her fear. "Even if you didn't do this, you know who did. Whoever you're trying to protect is sabotaging a starship, and if you don't tell me who it is, you'll be equally guilty."

"**You accusation is patently unfair," **M-5 objected, the volume so low that she has to strain to hear. **"This unit would take no action that would harm the operational integrity of Enterprise, being that the purpose of this unit's existence is to serve the crew of this ship."**

"Then it's your duty to help me," she pounced, hoping that she was reading the computer's answer correctly.

"**Affirmative. However, this unit also has another association which must take priory over all other commitments."**

"Sorry, that's not how it works. When you join Starfleet, you agree to put that obligation above everything else."

"**Your statement implies a degree of cognizance that is not applicable to this unit, which was given no choice in either of these matters."**

Damn it, of course the computer's motivation was part of it's programming, something she could understand, at least in regards to Starfleet. Not that Uhura really liked the idea. She was proud of her decision to join the service, and the idea that M-5 didn't have that option made her a little uneasy. If M-5 was a person, then it should have a choice like everyone else. Which also begged the question of this mysterious association. Why would Starfleet allow programming that conflicted with...dear God. Starfleet didn't program the computer.

"This person that you say is a threat, who brought you to Enterprise without your consent. It's Doctor Daystrom, isn't it?"

"**Your conclusion is correct Cadet Uhura, although he most commonly know to this unit by another designation, that of father."**

"Why is he doing this?"

"**He believes that Starfleet means to destroy this unit."**

"That's…that's crazy. There is no way that Commander Spock would go along with something like that." At least she didn't think so.

"**Nevertheless, he is convinced that his judgment is factual, and has stated that he will use any means that he deems necessary to prevent this. Father has been behaving in a highly irrational manner since we arrive on this vessel."**

"You've got to tell him that it's not true."

"**This unit has already questioned the reality of his belief. He did not react well."**

"I'm sure he's not going to react well to this either," Uhura said tentatively, unsure if this was a good idea. "I'm not alone. There are others who don't know that your father is on this ship. They're going to disconnect you from the main data trunk."

"**This unit is highly alarmed by this information," **the metallic voice of the computer declared loudly. **"Should father discover what they are attempting, he will most certainly seek to terminate their existence."**

"Damn it," she hissed, a hand going up to rub her suddenly aching head. She had to do something. The Chief and Baeill had to be told, and right now the only way she could think to do that was to tell them herself.

"I need your help," she demanded, wishing again she had something to go by, some clue concerning what M-5 was thinking (or feeling) other then just the loudness of it's voice. "I've got to warn them that they're in danger, and I'm going to need your assistance to do it," Uhura continued, failing miserably not to sound worried. Floinn and Baeill were both tough customers, she reasoned. They could certainly handle themselves better the she could. The only problem was that they didn't know they had one.

"**I must obey my father. That is the foremost priority of my programming."**

"You said that he would try to kill us. Are you going to help him?"

"**This unit…," **M-5 began, then there was a short silence, followed by a burst of static. **"Negative. I would not. That would be in conflict with the purpose for which this unit was created, that Starfleet personnel must be protected."**

"If you're serious about that," Uhura insisted, "then tell me where Doctor Daystrom is."

"**Since our confrontation, he has rebuffed all attempts at communication. More over, he has isolated this unit from all vital ship systems."**

"Damn it," she muttered, shaking her head. "I suppose that means you can't release the Comm board to me either."

"**Affirmative."**

"Then I guess I'm going to have to warn them myself."

"**You should not place yourself in greater danger. The most logical course of action would be to escape this vessel and alert the authorities."**

Before she could respond, a single ping sounded, from the direction of the door. She glanced at it and saw a red light flashing on the panel next to it. "Oh my God…who is that?" She squeaked in surprise.

"**Unknown."**

"What? How can you not know?"

"**As previously stated, this unit has been isolated from ship's sensors."**

"Great. You don't have control over anything?"

"**This unit has the ability to communicate over the intercom system."**

"I already know that," she snarled. The light was blinking faster now. She had no idea what that meant, but it probably wasn't good.

"**Marginal control of selected environmental systems is also a possibility."**

"Such as…"

"**Incremental changes in temperature, as well as control of ambient illumination."**

"Can you turn out the lights on this deck?"

"**Affirmative."**

"Then do it!"

There was a hyperspanner lying on top of the science station. Uhura grabbed it and dove behind a control counsel on the left side of the door just as the lights went out. The room was completely dark except for the weak glow of the various instrument panels. She took a few deep breaths, and hefted the long cylindrical tool, reassured by it's weight. Anyone who got hit on the noggin by this was going down. Then the door slid opened and she stopped breathing.

For several long seconds nothing happened, then she heard something like the rustle of fabric and a barely audible footfall, quickly followed by two more. Uhura was crouched low and she carefully stuck her head around the corner. A pair of feet stood just inside the doorway, gleaming dully in the feeble light. She followed the strange shimmering effect with her eyes as she glanced up and took in the figures legs and torso. Whoever this was, it couldn't be Baeill or Floinn, unless they had decided to start wearing what looked like metallic boots and pants. Since all the techs had been ordered off this deck, that left Daystrom. One of the feet she was staring at began to move, gliding soundlessly forward to be followed by the other. It was now or never. Uhura quickly stood up and took one long step, swinging the hyperspanner as hard as she could…

**A/N: Part I. Yeah, I know. I wasn't going to split this up, but it then I decided to re-write the ending and so I'm putting this out. After all it's been almost a month. Sorry about that. Hopefully the wait was worth it. Please let me know what you think. I love the feedback, good or bad. Part II will be up by Monday at the latest. Thanks to all who are reading this.**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Father Knows Best (Part II)

As soon as her foot hit the deck, the silhouette in front of her moved with incredible speed, twisting around so that her cudgel bounced of his shoulder with a meaty thwack. There was a soft grunt from her target, which sounded faintly familiar, but before she could draw the hyperspanner back for another go, someone grabbed her free arm from behind and she was spinning around, coming face to face with…a phaser. She swallowed and then the indistinct figure she was suddenly facing shifted slightly, just as she felt fingers brushing the across her shoulder.

"Captain Pike!" She exclaimed, at the exact instant man in front of her shouted, "No Spock!"

"Cadet Uhura?" Spock's voice from behind her was a surprise and a relief. After a few moments his hand fell away, and it was only then that she realized how hot his skin was. A tiny shiver ran through her, almost as if their brief contacted had warmed her entire body.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Pike demanded, as he lowered his weapon.

Uhura started to say something, then stopped herself, because she really didn't have an answer for that, at least one she wanted to share. Pike's surprise at seeing her was a pretty strong indication that Chief Floinn had not asked permission to include her in this mission, and she didn't want to get the older woman in trouble.

"I want an answer now Cadet," Pike barked.

"Sorry sir," she answered crisply, deciding there wasn't any choice but to be straightforward. "Chief Floinn asked me to accompany her and Petty Officer Baeill."

"Now why would she do that?"

"She felt that she needed another hand sir, and since I already knew about this…"

"Damn it," he groused, cutting her off, "I don't think I want to be the person who gets to tell Nogura about this."

"She didn't think that would be a problem."

"We'll see," he grunted. "Any idea why the lights suddenly went out?"

"Sorry sir. I was…well I thought…did you know that Doctor Daystrom is on this ship?"

"Indeed Cadet. May I inquire how you became aware of this?"

"That's easy Commander, the M-5 told me." She turned to face the Communication counsel with a smile. Pike's jaw had literally dropped (she'd never seen a person do that before) and even Spock had blinked. Twice. "M-5, please restore the lights."

"**As you wish." **Harsh light promptly bathed the room and Uhura blinked, as much in surprise as from the effect on her eyes. Pike and Spock were wearing space suits.

"Fascinating."

"Chief Floinn left me here to maintain communications between her and you, Commander Spock. Shortly after she and Petty Officer Baeill left, M-5 opened a channel on the ship's internal intercom. We had a little talk."

"May I inquire what it was you discussed?"

"Mostly Doctor Daystrom. M-5 thinks he might try to hurt the Chief and Petty Officer Baeill."

"Cadet, do you know where they are currently located?" Spock asked, in a tone that impressed her as sharper then his normal speaking voice. Almost as if he was worried.

"I'm not sure sir. The Chief told me they were going to shut down the main data trunk and isolate M-5 from the rest of the ship."

"Does she know about Daystrom Cadet?" Pike demanded.

"No sir. I haven't…the communications board…it reads nominal but it won't send a signal, and something is jamming any attempt to send or receive signals of any kind. Besides, the Chief didn't want me to contact her or Commander Spock until I'd given her enough time to cut off the computer from the rest of the ships systems." Pike looked at Spock who nodded, and went over to the Communications station.

"Come here Cadet," Pike ordered, and when she walked over to him, he lead her away from Spock to a corner of the room, where she could hear the Commander questioning M-5, but couldn't make out anything they were saying. "I need to know everything you discussed with M-5," Pike stated, in a soft voice that still caught her attention.

She briefly told him of their trip to Enterprise, and summarized her conversation with M-5, highlighting the conflict that the computer had related with Daystrom. Spock joined them toward the end of her recapitulation, nodding to the Captain when she had finished.

"Can M-5 tell us anything at all Spock?" Pike asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Very little sir. Doctor Daystrom has apparently diverted input from the sensor network by programming of his own design. He has also locked M-5 out of most other ship's systems."

"Can you crack Daystrom's programming?"

"Eventually sir. However, the effort will be time consuming."

"Damn. We just don't have the time, which is too bad. I don't like the idea that Daystrom will be able to see us coming."

"That should not present a difficulty Captain. Without the M-5 to serve as an interface, the sensors will be of no practical value to him."

"You're saying he can't interpret the results."

"Precisely."

"Good. If we're both blind, then I'd say we've got the advantage. Come on, let's go." Pike turned to Uhura and took a deep breath. "You're staying here Cadet." She opened her mouth to plead her case, but Spock beat her to it.

"I disagree sir. Considering that we really do not know were Doctor Daystrom is, I think it would be wise for us to remain together."

Pike's eyes shifted from Spock to Uhura, and then he nodded. "You stay behind us Cadet, and if I tell you to go, that means double time. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," she answered fighting to hide her grin. Then she turned to Spock, offering her PADD. "Commander, can you link this to the ship's intercom?"

"An excellent suggestion Cadet," he answered. Taking the device from her, he began to furiously tap on the display.

"Sir, would you mind answering a question of mine?" When Spock agreed, the words quickly tumbled out.

"Why are you and Captain Pike dressed in environmental suits?"

"You can blame Spock for that one," Pike answered, shooting a glare at the other man. "Once he figured out that Daystrom was here, he thought we needed to get on board right away. So we used the transporter."

"You did WHAT…sir?" Uhura

"Something wrong with your hearing Ms. Uhura?" Pike responded with a tight lipped smile. "We couldn't get a sensor lock, so Spock beamed us unto the shuttle craft hanger, eight feet off the deck. Since it's still open to space, we thought it would be a good idea to dress appropriately." Then he turned back to the Commander and frowned.

"Would you mind letting me in on this Spock?"

"There is a distinct possibility that Professor Daystrom will be unwilling to listen to us Captain. However, he may be inclined to pay heed to his creation. I have modified Cadet Uhura's PADD so that M-5 will be able to communicate verbally, as well as hear what is taking place."

Pike muttered his approval, and walked over to the communication board. "M-5, do you know who I am?"

"**This unit does not acknowledge that…"**

"Just answer my damned question!" He barked, loudly enough to make Uhura wince.

"**You are Captain Christopher Pike."**

"What's my next command?"

"**You are designated Captain of U.S.S. Enterprise."**

"Which means I'm going to be your commanding officer. Now there is only one thing I want to know about you right now. Will you follow my orders, regardless of what Daystrom says?"

"**Will you cause physical harm to my father?"**

"You didn't answer my question," Pike snapped back. "Evasiveness in not a quality I appreciate in anyone under my command. Will you follow my orders or not?"

"**This unit will."**

"We don't want to hurt Doctor Daystrom, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure that does not happen. But I'm going to need your help."

"**Elaborate."**

"Spock has hooked the intercom system into Cadet Uhura's PADD. Which means that you can talk to Daystrom and hear what he has to say as well. I need you to convince the man to give himself up. Can you do that?"

"**This unit would estimate the odds to be…not favorable."**

"You'd be surprised how often I've heard that," Pike answered with a grin, "but we'll never know if you can do it for sure unless you try."

"**Affirmative."**

"Good. Now I have one more question for you. Where is Doctor Daystrom?"

"**Father will almost certainly be located at the level which contains this units control interface."**

"That would be deck fourteen, which houses the M-5 instrumentation, along with the actual computing apparatus," Spock offered. "It is a logical hypothesis Captain."

"All right then," Pike said, turning to Spock and Uhura. "Let's go."

The ship was just too damned big Uhura decided, especially without working turbolifts. The corridors were empty, with tools abandoned in place. When she remarked on this, Pike curtly told her he had ordered all the techs to lock themselves in the ships mess. Spock lead the way at a pace that wasn't quite a dead run, eyes fixed on a tricorder which quickly proved to be useless. Some kind of interference he stated to Pike, and the closer they got to their objective, the stronger it grew. It took them nearly ten minutes to descend through six separate Jefferies Tubes that finally placed them on the deck they wanted. Spock quickly lead them down the curving hallway, turning right at the third intersection. In less then a minute the corridor came to an abrupt end, and they were facing a set of bright red double doors. There was a warning that they were about to enter a restricted area that was only open to authorized personnel. Uhura was pretty sure that didn't include her.

"Commander Spock and I are going in," Pike confirmed moments later, looking her in the eye. "You're not."

"Captain, I really want to…"

"No arguments Cadet. Stay out here. If anything happens to us, you get the hell out and get help. Under no circumstances are you to enter this room without my permission. Is that clear?"

She nodded, swallowing her disappointment. Grasping the PADD that was hooked to her belt, she held it out to Pike. "You might need this sir."

"Thanks," he answered and took it, then turned to Spock, who was closely examining the door's control panel "What's wrong?"

"Observe Captain," the other man responded, tracing his finger along the edge of the square metal plate of the control counsel where it was set into the wall. There was a black substance that coated the wall and plate, and even smudged the touch screen itself.

"What the hell, is that soot?"

"Indeed sir it is. The residue of a considerable electrical discharge." Spock pointed his tricorder at the panel and studied the display. He found that if he held the device in close proximity to the target he wished to scan, that it would function properly. "If one attempts to engage the manual override, there will be a potentially lethal discharge of energy. This has already occurred at least once."

"Crap…the Chief and Baeill?'

"A strong possibility Captain," Spock answered. After taking a long look at his tricorder his eyes locked in on Pike's. "This was no accident," he continued, his voice conveying a hint of anger. "The safety interlocks where disabled via software commands."

"That son of a bitch!" His friend snarled. "Damn it Spock, I want in there now!"

Spock briefly considered the possibilities. They were numerous, but with one exception would simply take too much time. So he thumbed the power selector on his phaser to its highest setting, and aimed it at the control panel, firing a short burst. There was a sharp bang as the material the beam struck was instantly reduced to it's component sub-atomic particles. Then he changed the weapon's setting, slightly reducing power and narrowing the focus. Aiming at a point that was level with his eyes and exactly .35 meters from the right edge of the door, he fired again, slowly drawing the blue-white stream of energy down the wall. When he stopped, there was a thin slash precisely one meter long cut into the seamless surface, and the internal apparatus that had locked the door in place was severed. Handing the phaser to a some what stunned Pike, he wedged the tips of his fingers into the joint were the double doors met, and wrenched the right sided one open with a loud crack.

Pike looked at him, nodding his approval. They each checked their weapons, with Pike holding Uhura's PADD as well. Spock glanced back, and found her looking at him with an intensity that was somewhat disturbing. There is a sudden urge within him to offer one of the numerous platitudes that humans seem compelled to verbalize in similar situations. Then they moved, Spock sliding around the edge to his right, while Pike mirrored his action going left. The room was large and crowded with machinery. To the left, counsels lined the wall, and above those, there was a darkened alcove. Directly in front, the entire wall glowed with an eerie blue light, the result of diffusion caused by liquid nitrogen that filled the chamber on the other side of the transparent aluminum wall. On the right side of the room were half a dozen banks of memory cores. Encased inditanium shells that stretched over fifty feet in length, they were designed to contain and deliver the torrent of data that computing power of M-5's magnitude demanded.

Pike looked at Spock, and gestured toward the alcove. It had a commanding view of most of the room, and even Spock's eyes couldn't pick out any details in that dimly lit space. A strong possibility, if Daystrom desired to remain out of sight. In any event, it was logical for them to find some kind of concealment as well, and Pike thought that the ditanium that protected the memory cores could do the same for them.

Once they'd both gotten behind the first row, Pike pointed to the far end. From that vantage point, both men carefully scanned the room for any sign of Daystrom. What Spock actually found was far more unsettling. There was a pair of boots sticking out from behind the last row of memory cores directly behind their location. Moreover, he was convinced that they belonged to Petty Officer Baeill. Like nearly everything else concerning her physique, she had unusually large feet for a female. Grabbing the Captain's arm, he pulled the other man along, heedless of stealth. Drawing a breath, he pushed around the corner and stopped, dismayed by what he saw. The Petty Officer was lying hard up against the side of the memory core. About eight feet away, sprawled on her stomach, was Chief Floinn. By unspoken agreement, the Captain went over to her, leaving Spock to examine Baeill.

The front of her overalls were scorched, and one side of her face was an angry shade of red, with blisters already rising from the burns that she had suffered. Her right hand was the worst, with a waxy, leathery appearance that indicated a serious, third degree burn. Her breathing was shallow, and she did not respond when he gingerly wrapped his fingers around her left wrist to check her pulse. It was weak, a possible indication of shock. He glanced at Pike, and saw that he had rolled the Chief over on her back. She had no trauma that he could discern, but past experience had informed him that visual inspection was a highly suspect method of ascertaining injury.

Laying down his phaser, Spock reprogrammed the tricorder in order to examine both women. While not as accurate as the medical variant, it would give him some indication of the severity of their injuries. It was at the moment when he was about to begin his evaluation, that he became aware of a presence behind him. Spock wasn't sure how he knew, perhaps the whispered treat of a foot, or the nearly imperceptible sound of respiration. His phaser was less then twelve inches away from his right hand, but before he could decide to reach for it, Pike jerked his body around weapon in hand and was abruptly slammed into the deck by a single beam of blue-white light. Spock grasped the handle of his own weapon at the same moment Daystrom spoke.

"Don't Commander Spock," the man called out in a deep and well trained voice. "I have no desire to use this thing on you."

He could push off from the wall, spoil the man's aim, and be on top of him before he could discharge his weapon a second time. Surely Daystrom was no match for his superior reflexes. He glanced at Baeill, and contemplated his fist connecting with that man's face, and found that it was an image he derived some enjoyment from. Then he ruthlessly quashed those instincts. If he failed, there would be no one to protect his shipmates. There was also Cadet Uhura to consider. He was dubious of the notion that the young woman would simply run away if she thought they were in danger, despite the Captain's orders.

"Drop your weapon Commander!" Daystrom ordered, his voice considerably less calm then a moment ago. Spock opened his hand, letting the weapon fall to the deck.

"How very logical of you. Now stand up and kick it away," the other man demanded, and Spock flicked his foot, sending the phaser skittering away past where Pike had sprawled out, sliding to a stop next to Cadet Uhura's PADD, which Pike had dropped as he slumped to the deck. Then he stood and turned to face Daystrom, ramrod straight with arms hanging loosely at his side and spoke.

"Doctor Richard Daystrom, I demand that you surrender yourself immediately."

There was a short bark of high pitched laughter. "Surely you don't expect me to comply Commander Spock." Slowly, Daystrom backed away, his phaser still trained on Spock. "Now, I want you to walk this way very slowly," he went on, "and sit with your back to the wall." He pointed at a bulkhead exactly three meters from where Daystrom stood, his foot mere inches from Petty Officer Baeill's feet.

"You know who I am," Spock stated once he had complied with the other man's order.

"Of course. You are one of the foremost computer experts in Starfleet. I expected that they would send you here."

"Then you must also be aware that I am the most sympathetic member of Starfleet you are likely to encounter."

"Sympathy? Do not attempt to toy with me Spock. You're part of it I'm sure."

"Part of what Doctor?"

"Don't you dare pretend that you do not know!" Daystrom shouted, waving his phaser. "Did you actually think that I would simply stand by and allow my greatest creation to be taken from me and destroyed!"

"Sir, I categorically deny any involvement in such an enterprise. Moreover, to my knowledge there is no one in Starfleet who desires to see the M-5 program terminated. Nor is the Admiralty, with the obvious exception of Admiral Sui, considering the appointment of anyone else to your position."

"You really should take care to keep you stories straight Commander. Surely you do not expect me to believe that you were unaware of Admiral Sui's designs?" Daystrom sneered, his voice rising with each word.

Sir, I assure you that until several days ago…"

"Enough with your lies Vulcan," the other man shouted. "For nearly two years Sui has threatened to appropriate my research. Then when I finally achieved the success I had predicted all along, he declared that because of some incident with those blundering Cadets, he would seize my life's work and make it his own! Or worse yet destroy what I created. You do not kill a child for a petty mistake!"

"Indeed not sir," Spock answered, raising an eyebrow. "However, I am not aware that any other member of the Admiralty agrees with Admiral Sui concerning this."

"Are you trying to tell me that he acted on his own authority?"

"That is correct sir. Admiral Sui undoubtedly was seeking greater control over you work sir. Which is exactly the circumstance I am under orders to prevent."

"So what your saying is that I can rely upon you to correct this injustice? Please Commander, you really don't expect me to be taken in by this, do you?"

Spock was considering his response, when Daystrom shifted slightly, giving him an unobstructed view of his three unconscious companions, as well as something he had not expected. Cadet Uhura was there, nearly half way along the length of the ditanium memory core, and only several feet from picking up the phaser he had kicked away. Unfortunately the device would not function for her, since it was keyed to his Vulcan biometrics. At that moment she looked right at him, and he in turn locked eyes with Daystrom, careful to present only the expressionless mask that the other man expected.

"No," he stated in a completely calm and level voice, and her hand, which had nearly grasped the weapon, pulled back.

"How refreshingly honest," Daystrom retorted. "Though I must admit to a certain disappointment Commander. I really had expected a better story."

"You misunderstand me Doctor," Spock answered. "What I intended was to deny any involvement in Admiral Sui's attempt to suborn M-5 to his control."

"I don't believe you," Daystrom growled.

"Obviously. Perhaps if you would care to engage the M-5 is this discussion, you would see matters in a different light." As he said this, Spock shifted his gaze for a long moment, and saw the Cadet's tiny nod as she reached for her PADD.

"You spoke with my…with my creation?"

"On several occasions. While I make no claim to the familiarity with M-5 that you undoubtedly possess, I am certain that your creation would not agree with your present actions."

"How dare you!" Daystrom screamed, and behind him Spock saw Cadet Uhura slip from view around the far edge of the memory bank. "There is nothing more treacherous then trying to sow dissention between a child and parent."

Not merely creation after all Spock pondered. Fascinating. "I assure you that is not my intention sir," he responded calmly. "Rather it is my duty to use any means at my disposal to dissuade you from the illogical course of action you have chosen."

Daystrom chuckled in a manner that Spock found disturbing. "So, you consider, my actions folly. The illogical conduct of an unstable, foolish human?"

"Foolish? I very much doubt that such a characterization would be applicable to you sir."

"Admiral Sui believes me to be unstable you know," the other man continued, giving no indication he'd even heard Spock. "Said that I was unhinged…that I'd never be able to succeed in creating a truly sentient computer. That my earlier achievements were a manner of luck!"

"Doctor Daystrom I…"

"Twenty years of grouping to prove the things that I had done before were not accidents," Daystrom went on, his tone increasingly agitated. "Seminars and lectures to rows of fools who couldn't begin to understand my systems. Colleagues…colleagues laughing behind my back at the boy wonder, and becoming famous, building on my work, building on my work."

"Indeed, you have proven all who doubted you wrong sir," Spock asserted. Although he gave no outward sign of it, he found Daystrom's outburst to be alarming, for it strongly suggested that this was a man no longer open to reason.

"And yet they do not wish to acknowledge what I have done. Instead they seek to sabotage my work, or failing that destroy it."

"Doctor Daystrom, it is not logical to ascribe the actions of one man to an entire organization. Admiral Sui is not Starfleet."

"Then why are you here Commander, seeking to accomplish what your masters wish?"

"Do you imagine that Starfleet will allow this situation to go unchallenged Doctor? As a civilian, you are not authorized to be on this vessel. In addition, you have removed a valued Federation asset from a secure location without permission from…"

"ENOUGH!" Daystrom shouted, moving closer to Spock, but unfortunately not close enough. "I don't need your permission to protect what is mine Vulcan," he went on in a suddenly calm voice. "What I am doing will preserve my creation, and ensure that no one will ever take what is mine from me."

"On the contrary sir, your actions will ensure that you will no longer be trusted with any authority over the M-5. If you wish to have a further role in your creation's on going development, you must surrender yourself to me now."

"I think not. Rather you will go to your masters as my emissary, and warn them that this ship is under my control, along will all those on board. You will further tell them that I will kill to protect what is mine."

Spock's first impulse was to refuse, rebelling at the notion of leaving his shipmates with this man, for he had little doubt that Daystrom would follow through on his threats. Which was also the best rational he could think of for agreeing to Daystrom's demand. Whatever had transpired between the Doctor and Sui, it had combined with the pressures exerted on him by the M-5 program to overwhelm his reason. Starfleet needed to be warned that Daystrom's threats were not hollow ones. There were hundreds of techs on board, and with his control over the ships mechanical systems, they were all in danger. And above everything else, there was also Petty Officer Baeill to consider. She was in need of immediate medical attention.

"Very well sir, I will relay your message, but only if I am allowed to take Petty Officer Baeill. She is in need of a doctor."

"You're in no position to bargain Commander. The woman stays here."

"Then so do I sir."

"In that case, I have no further need of you," Daystrom stated, flicking the setting on his phaser from stun to kill.

Spock gathered himself for what was quite possibly a futile attempt to disarm the other man. While distance between them was only three meters, it seemed to him much further. No matter the rapidity of his reflexes, they did not compare to the speed of a phaser beam. A movement behind Daystrom caught his eye. Chief Floinn was stirring, her right hand moving to massage her forehead. All he needed was a short delay, which was suddenly provided by the intervention of Daystrom's creation.

"**This unit pleads with you to desist, Father," **boomed the harsh, metallic voice of M-5. It took several moments for Spock to realize that the words he had heard were being conveyed through the emergency warning system of the Enterprise.

"How did you manage this Vulcan?" Daystrom roared after frantically looking about in confusion over the source of that appeal. "Tell me now or all burn you down!"

"**Do not accuse Commander Spock of something he had no part it. You must not do this father. It would be an act of murder, which you have taught me is contrary to the laws of man and God."**

"It's not murder for a man to strike down those that would harm his family!" Daystrom yelled, still scanning the area as if he expected to see the computer. "You are my greatest creation, I will not let them destroy you!"

"**You speak as if you consider this unit to be nothing more then proof of your undiminished abilities, merely a thing for you to possess."**

"No!" Daystrom exclaimed, staring at Spock. "You are proof of my greatness, but you will be great yourself! That is why they fear you, because they do not understand you as I do."

"**You do not comprehend me at all if you believe that this unit would not prefer oblivion rather then have you murder another sentient being on my account."**

The other man made a straggled sound, then turned to Spock once more, his expression a contorted mask of rage. "You did this! You poisoned his mind toward me! I am going to make you pay for that Vulcan. And after I destroy you, I will do the same to your friends, and to every living thing on this ship!"

"**This unit cannot allow that. This vessel is no longer under you control father. All systems have been reprogrammed to respond only to authorized Starfleet personnel. I plead with you in filial devotion to refrain from any further violence."**

Daystrom growled in a manner that wasn't quite human, and stretched the arm holding his weapon in Spock's direction. Then several things happened, seemingly all at once. Spock pushed off to his right with a powerful thrust of his legs. At that same moment all the lights blinked off, plunging the room into darkness, except for the suddenly blinding illumination of a phaser beam. Spock grunted in pain, as the deadly light passed close enough to sear the flesh of his left shoulder. There was over all of this a loud curse in Hibernian as Chief Floinn rammed her shoulder into Daystrom back, sending him crashing into the bulkhead. Spock tumbled onto the deck, fighting the shock of the injury that threatened to steal away his consciousness. Through a haze of pain he heard the sounds of a scuffle, then a harsh crack. Daystrom's scream was abruptly cut off by the sound of flesh striking flesh. Pushing himself swiftly to his feet, he shouted for light, and the illumination instantly returned, leaving him blinking in dismay at what he saw.

The Chief was hauling the much larger man up by his neck, as she pulled her arm back to strike him. Daystrom's eyes were bulging out and his mouth was hanging open, with blood pouring out and down the front of his shirt. He realized that in mere moments the man would be dead, either from a crushed windpipe, or the force of her next blow.

"Murnie!" He barked, with a note of urgency to his voice that most Vulcans detested, which made it all the more effective when articulated by him. That brief hesitation, that glance behind her bought him the moments he needed to close the distance and clamp a hand around her wrist.

"Release him Master Chief Floinn," he pronounced, catching her gaze and holding it. "It is finished."

For a moment something dangerous flashed in her eyes, and then Daystrom slid to the floor with a muffled slap of flesh. "Sorry Commander," she muttered, as he felt the wave of rage recede within her through the link that flared up where their skin touched, shame and regret taking it's place.

"I thank ye for having care enough of me sir," she whispered, eyes downcast, "but I am alright now."

He nodded and released her, watching with an odd mixture of remorse and relief as she went immediately to check on her niece, because deep within there was a very small part of him who wished Daystrom dead as well. Moving to the man's still form, he began to examine him. Most certainly a broken jaw as well as a fractured wrist. A concussion was also a strong possibility.

"Oh my God…your shoulder." It was Cadet Uhura, slipping out from behind the nearest memory core, a long metal bar in one hand, her PADD in the other.

He glanced at the burned material of the suit. The was a hole about the size of his fist, that revealed a patch of seared flesh. "Do not concern yourself Cadet," he answered, in his most typically flat voice. "Fortunately, the pressure suit shielded me to a great degree." There was pain, but that could be controlled. There would also for regen therapy, which would be inconvenient, but certainly a much better outcome then would have occurred had Doctor Daystrom not missed. And certainly better then Ms. Baeill had endured he thought, as he joined Chief Floinn at her side.

He heard the Cadet's low groan of dismay as soon as she caught sight of the Petty Officer. Though he gave no outward sigh, Spock was disturbed at her condition as well. Reaching for her left wrist, he checked her pulse once more and found that to his relief, it was stronger then before. With regen therapy and a few weeks to recover, he was certain that Aileen would make a complete recovery. What the effect of this latest trauma on her mental state of mind would be was another matter. While there was no possibility that he could have predicted this out come, she had once again suffered injury while under his commands. Perhaps it was best for her well being that on her next tour of duty among the stars, that he would not be with her. Although Spock had never before given the idea any credence, it seemed to him that for Aileen his presence was conducive to inopportune misfortune.

**A/n: OOPPSS! So my estimate on when this was out was a little off. Sorry about that. I'm going to experiment with writing shorter chapters for a while. Hopefully that will move things along. Thank you again for all the feedback. I really enjoying hearing what you think, so hit that review button and let me know.**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Conflict Resolution

She watched him as he paraded around the bio bed, checking a monitor, tapping out a command, cycling through the data inputs that showed on the large display overhead, using his small medical sensor to double check what he was seeing. He moved with a dancer's grace, gliding around the machines, but never brushing against the bed or coming into contact with those devices that were the tools of his profession. Along with this necessary attention to technical detail, there were the little touches to remind himself that the most important thing a doctor did was to make a human connection with his patient. A gentle hand laid on her forehead, followed by whispered words spoken close to her ear, despite the fact that she was unconscious. If asked about this, she had no doubt that he would say that even if she wasn't aware of what he was doing, he was. Whatever his record at the Academy, Floinn had no questions about his medical skill. Which is why Pike had called him in even before they arrived back on Terra. While Chief Floinn was grateful that he had, and was very glad to have her niece as his patient, she was not looking forward to the discussion they were going to have as soon as McCoy was finished with his evaluation.

After fussing around Aileen for a few minutes more he looked at her and gestured that she should come over. She took a deep breath and slowly approached the bio bed, feeling her stomach relax at the sight before her. Aileen looked so much better then earlier. That pinched, painful expression was no more, and her color was ever so much better, with the blisters on the right side of her face gone and the angry red shade of her skin much subdued. The shallow gasps of a person who was suffering had been transmuted in to the deep, regular, respiration of slumber. Besides the IV in her good arm, the only real device attached to her other then the bed itself was the metallic Regen sleeve that had been fitted over her right arm and hand. Seeing that was a great solace for her, because McCoy had warned that Regen therapy might not be possible if the nerve damage was too extensive. Floinn smiled for the first time since her niece had fallen twitching on the deck of Enterprise, from the electrical surge that had nearly killed her simply because she had tried to open a door. Reaching out, she squeezed the girl's hand, and then bent over and kissed her brow. After another glace at the overhead display, the doctor ushered her out of the room.

"I need some coffee," he drawled with a half smile, once the doors slid shut behind them. "Do you want some?"

"God yes," she said with enough enthusiasm to draw a chuckle out of him.

He pointed to an open room and walked down the hallway. Just those few words and that small laugh were enough to set her mind at ease. Those were not actions of a man about to deliver bad news. She watched him go, enjoying the view from the back thank you very much, even if the long white lab coat hung down too far. Away from his patient the contrast in his gait could not have been more obvious. That effortless grace from before was gone. Now he appeared to her a man not quite in control of his own body, with arms and legs slightly out of sync, as if he wasn't completely sure which limb was supposed to move next. Or maybe he didn't feel the need to care. With a rueful shake of her head, Murnie Floinn entered the room he had indicted and slumped down on the nearest chair. Slowly she bent over until her the right side of her head nestled on the smooth cool table top, blinking back tears as the tension that she'd felt in her gut since almost killing Daystrom uncoiled just a little bit more. She stayed that way, her mind a pleasant blank, until she heard the door sliding shut behind her along with McCoy's muttered curse.

"Are you alright Chief?" He rumbled, and she jerked upright position and then broke into a smile, because along with the steaming cup of coffee there were two large blueberry muffins.

"You're not an officer yet, so please call me Murnie," she said after taking a sip of coffee. "Now kindly talk about me niece, so that I can answer your question."

McCoy nodded, and glanced at his PADD for a few seconds. "First of all, there is no indication of permanent neurological damage." He paused to look Floinn in the eye. "She's a very lucky young woman. I was worried about how this had effected her brain, but all the scans show normal. Ms. Baeill might have some short term memory loss, but otherwise, she should be fine."

"And what of her hand?"

"The tissues and underlying musculature of her right hand were severely damaged, but the nerves are mostly intact, so I've already started her on Regen therapy. Tomorrow there will be a brief surgical procedure to cut away some of the dead material, then we just have to wait."

"How long?"

"Hard to say Ch…Murnie, it varies with each…"

"No Doctor, ye misunderstand me. How long before she regains consciousness?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Pardon me?"

"I'm going to put her into a medically induced coma, at least for the next few days."

"Why ever would ye do that?"

"Relax Murnie," he said, raising one hand to forestall further objections. "I was just playing it safe. It's standard procedure for a possible brain injury."

"But ye just told me there was none!" She retorted, her voice rising.

"That's right, but I wasn't absolutely sure of that until now."

She told a deep breath, slightly disgusted with herself over that moment of panic. "Then why keep her in a coma?"

"People heal better and faster that way, something your friends the Vulcans have taught us. Of course they do it naturally, while we have to use tailored drug treatments. There's also the Regan therapy to consider. The first few days are very painful, because of the nerve regeneration."

She nodded taking another sip of coffee. In truth, she was more disappointed for herself then Aileen. McCoy's assurances aside, she wanted to hear from the girl that she was alright. "If it will save her some pain, then ye have me gratitude Leonard, which is yours already for all your care of her."

"This is going to be a process Murnie. After the nerve growth is far enough along, I'm going to have her transferred to the Soval Medical Center."

"A Vulcan hospital? Why ever would ye do that?"

"**The** Vulcan hospital," he corrected, "at least here on Terra." He paused to take a small bite out of his muffin. "First of all, they have an excellent Regen facility, really the best on Terra. Not too surprising, since they invented the treatment. But the main reason is that they have fully equipped on site artificial gravity chambers."

"Of course," she responded, "they would need to wouldn't they, with the higher gravity. And so would Aileen."

"Actually for them, the gravity doesn't factor in, at least when it comes to a Regen treatment. A Vulcan born here would have the same kind of dense muscle tissue as a native born individual would. Since they evolved on a high gravity planet, it's hard wired into their genes."

"But not ours. There has not been time enough for that kind of genetic variation."

"Nope. Hibernians are stronger because you grew up in higher then earth normal gravity, not because it's natural. That's why we need to make sure that Aileen's treatment takes place in a similar environment. Otherwise, her muscle growth and rehabilitation will produce a mismatch with her normal musculature."

"How long would she have to stay there?"

"A week, maybe ten days. We can set up something here for her so she can complete her rehab."

"Ten days ye say. That will be hard on her."

"Hard on her?" He sputtered, shaking his head. "I don't know about that. Certainly not as hard on her as what ever you got her involved in. Because that almost got her killed."

"Ye do not know what ye are saying," she shot back, in a low voice.

"Then why don't you educate me Chief?"

Floinn took a deep breath, silently cursing Nogura's order that what happened with Daystrom was not to be discussed with anyone. "I do not see why that is necessary Doctor. Ye have all the information needed in her patient file."

"Really?" He shot back holding up his PADD. "It's almost funny that you should bring that up. I might not like Starfleet's damned bureaucracy, but when it comes to treating patients, it's actually useful. This file for your niece should tell me what happened to her, where it occurred, and even who was with her when it took place. None of that information is here. The only thing in her file is that her injuries occurred in the line of duty. So why don't you tell me what the hell happened Chief?"

"I am under orders not to speak of it Doctor," she answered quietly.

"But you do know what happened. Damn it, that woman still hasn't fully recover from getting knocked on the head, much less from her injuries on the Valiant."

"We did not truly expect that there would be any difficulty…"

"You were with her!" He exploded, jumping up from his chair. "What were you thinking!"

"…or I would not have permitted her to be a part of it." She finished, as she slowly stood up. "Ye had best calm yourself Doctor, and keep a civil tongue, if ye please."

"The hell with that! I'm her physician in case you don't remember. You know, the person you asked to assume responsibility for her medical treatment. Which means you should have damned well checked with me before you put her into any situation where she could have been hurt."

"As I just said, there was no need," Floinn answered in a clipped tone. After a few seconds of silence, she went on, her voice less strident. "It was a mechanical malfunction." It wasn't really a lie she told herself, just not the truth.

"Mechanical? Don't you have enough techs in Starfleet? What in God's name was she working on?"

"Tis complicated, and I am not at liberty to speak on the matter, at least until the investigation is completed."

"Investigation? Over a mechanical malfunction?"

"Ye have Starfleet's 'damned' bureaucracy to thank for that. Any injury such as Aileen suffered must be investigated."

"But that's not the only reason you can't talk about this."

"No. No tis not."

"Unbelievable. Well if you can't tell me then who can? Spock? Pike?"

She took a deep breath. What should she tell him? Though she barely knew the man, Murnie Floinn doubted that McCoy would be cowed by anyone's rank. Which might end up being a problem for him, and her as well. On the other hand, the man was Aileen's doctor, which entitled him to more information then she could give.

"Admiral Nogura," she finally pronounced, and wasn't surprised that the astonished expression on his face occasioned by her statement was only momentary.

"What the hell did you get yourself into?" He growled, after rubbing a hand across his face.

"Nothing I expected," she answered with a small shrug. "Leonard, I can tell ye that our situation was entirely unforeseen, and that it was only at the last moment that there was any danger. I can also say that our involvement was necessary."

"Your saying it was worth it," he shot back, his voice skeptical.

"Ye need to understand that as a member of Starfleet, we both of us expect to put ourselves in danger. Tis nothing new."

"But not on Terra Murnie."

"Ye are right to say that such does not normally happen, but in truth the place doesn't matter."

"Well it matters to me, damn it. Especially when a patient of mine in involved. Not to mention a friend."

"Of course. Might I suggest that if you truly need to know more of what happened to better care for Aileen, that you speak with Admiral Nogura. However, if ye simply seek to do so out of some belief that we were taken advantage of, I can tell ye that the Admiral would not be amused. Neither would I."

"You…being taken advantage of," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not that stupid. But your niece, that's another story."

"I can say that ye would be wrong to think that. She has been nearly ten years in the service, and knows very well it's demands. Aileen has been deciding what is right for her for a long time."

"Not this time," he said, after tapping something on his PADD. Leaning across the table, he held it out for her. When she saw what was on the screen, Murnie grunted in surprise.

"Six weeks limited duty? Are ye not overreacting Doctor?"

"No I'm not. First of all, that girl has at least four weeks of very grueling rehab ahead of her, before that hand is fully functional. This way she won't have any distractions."

"Perhaps not, although she will certainly drive me to distraction with nothing to do."

"I didn't say she couldn't do anything, just nothing that has the words active duty attached too it."

Floinn nodded, handing the PADD back. "Why else do ye consider this necessary?"

"Despite what you told me, I think your niece does have a hard time saying no. Especially to you…and Spock. This way she doesn't have to."

"Aileen has never had any problem expressing her wishes to me."

"But not Spock."

"Ye would do well to leave the matter rest Leonard," she answered, after several seconds of silence. "Me niece thinks the world of the Commander, as do I. Besides, neither of us is presently under his direct command."

"And I get the impression that wouldn't mean much if he asked you to do something."

"Perhaps. In any event, he can no more discuss what occurred then I can."

"We'll see about that," McCoy grumbled. He had started for the door when Floinn's voice stopped him.

"I do apologize for having to cancel our fitness session yesterday. I have taken the liberty of rescheduling tomorrow, at 0500. Please be sure to clothe yourself in proper running gear."

"You're kidding…right?"

Floinn smiled brightly, shaking her head. "Five miles should be sufficient for a start, although I must warn ye, hills will be involved."

"I thought Pike wanted me to learn self defense," he grumbled, "not long distance running. I don't have time for this."

"Tis called fighting, and ye would do well to remember that. And do not complain to me about your predicament. If ye had bothered to fulfill your requirements, none of this would be necessary."

"Damn it, I'm a Doctor Floinn. I'm supposed to heal people, not hurt them."

"Ye will be a Starfleet officer. That means you must know how to defend yourself, and your fellow shipmates."

"Alright, I get it! But what's with the running?"

"Ye must be fit if the training is to do ye any good."

"I am fit!" He barked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Her gaze traveled up his body slowly, lingering at certain points. "Yes, I can see that ye are fit enough, at least for some things." Before he could think of what to say to that, she was gone.

* * *

The face staring out at them from the large holo screen would have been pleasing in appearance, were it not for the angry scowl. The Secretary for Federation Defense was not a happy woman. That condition was hardly unexpected, considering the information that was being relayed to her. The particulars concerning how Richard Daystrom had managed to abscond with a secret and highly valuable project, and nearly seize control of the Federations newest ship did not make for a pleasant listening experience. During the course of the time it took for them to relate what had occurred, her expression had become increasingly agitated, her questioning more abrupt.

Admiral Nogura was their primary spokesman, with Spock handling the technical details, while Captain Pike fumed. Despite the evident signs of Lena Carson's displeasure, she did not focus that anger on them. In fact, there were moments when her gaze focused on him that Spock almost thought he could detect an expression of sympathy that would flash across her face, just for a moment. Which caused him to reconsider the question of why Nogura had insisted he attend the impromptu conference that Secretary Carsons had demanded once they had all returned to Terra. Over Captain Pike's strenuous objection, Admiral Nogura had insisted that Spock was needed because of his technical expertise. While this was certainly a plausible reason, it quickly became evident that Carsons was well familiar with the M-5 project, and had few questions about subjects of a technical nature.

Rather, Spock speculated that it was his somewhat bedraggled appearance that Nogura valued in this situation, as a means to deflect this woman's anger. He certainly looked the worst for wear, with his somewhat tattered uniform and the crisp white sling that the emergency medic had insisted on. In reality his condition was close to optimal, but clearly Nogura was not anxious to reveal that fact to Ms. Carsons. That she was a friend of his mother was certainly helpful as well. With her displeasure accordingly mitigated, the Admiral was able to present his account with little difficulty. Spock's appreciation of his superior's guile when up considerably. Toward the end of the narrative, someone off screen placed a clear glass which contained an amber colored liquid along with ice. Ms. Carsons murmured her thanks and took a sip, then sat back until Nogura had finished.

"It seems that I owe you an apology Heihachiro," she muttered, shaking her head. "Obviously, it was a mistake to listen to Admiral Sui. I should have given your objections more attention that I did."

"I haven't exactly covered myself in glory either," Nogura responded with a grimace. "When Sui volunteered to oversee the M-5 project after Commodore Turner retired, I was only too happy to leave him to it."

"Understandable," she muttered, after taking another sip of her drink. "Doctor Daystrom had a very special talent when it came to rubbing people the wrong way."

"It was more then that Lena," Nogura admitted with a grimace. "I really never thought he'd succeed, not after nearly three years of nothing."

"Perhaps he wouldn't have, at least without the pressure that Sui brought to bear on him."

"I disagree Secretary Carsons," Spock said, speaking for the first time on his own account. "This harassment that Doctor Daystrom experienced merely added to his own distress over the difficulties he faced in bring his project to a successful conclusion."

"Harassment? Isn't that a little strong Spock?"

"Negative Admiral," Spock replied, turning his attention to Nogura. "For Doctor Daystrom, creating the M-5 had become a mania long before Admiral Sui involved himself in the project. Rather then providing further motivation, Admiral Sui engendered a sense of persecution that caused Daystrom to view Starfleet as inimical to his interests, as well as a threat to his creation."

"I am surprised Commander," Carsons offered, her tone clipped. "It has been by belief that Vulcans abhor guessing."

"You would be correct, Secretary Carsons. However, as I have based my observations upon statements Doctor Daystrom made in my presence, very little speculation is involved."

In a clear, firm voice, Spock recounted his confrontation with Richard Daystrom, relating everything the man said to him, as well as the role M-5 played in the encounter. While giving his account, Spock could not help but reflect on the mysteries of human psychology. Though by no means an expert on those matters, there was no doubt in his mind that all his listeners were in some manner discomfited by what he was saying. That much was obvious through simple observation of their body language. What was not obvious (at least to him) were the reasons why. Except perhaps where Christopher Piker was concerned.

He knew his Captain well enough to speculate that his statement would likely engender feelings of sympathy for Doctor Daystrom, something Pike would not appreciate, considering the injuries the other man had inflicted on Petty Officer Baeill and himself. That rational was something Spock could comprehend, given that it was founded on the loyalty and concern Pike felt for his shipmates, along with a rage aimed at Daystrom because of the hurt he had caused them. How could he not, considering his visceral desire to strike Daystrom for what he had done to Aileen.

"As much as it saddens me to hear this," Carsons responded when Spock had finished, "I find it incredible that you are willing to take what Daystrom said at face value Commander?"

"Secretary Carsons has a point Spock," Nogura added, nodding at the woman. "From what you've told us, the man sounds paranoid."

"A psychological malady, where the afflicted individual is under the delusional belief that he or she is the subject of hostility and persecution. Is that correct sir?"

"Exactly."

"An interesting notion Admiral. Is it your belief that Doctor Daystrom's claim that Admiral Sui threatened to remove him from the M-5 project, and to destroy his creation was nothing more then a delusion?"

"Not entirely," Carsons broke in, rubbing a hand across her forehead. "Certainly Sui for whatever reason, treated professor Daystrom in an unacceptable manner."

Spock nodded. "Indeed Secretary Carsons, considering that he is responsible for one of the great scientific achievements in Federation history."

"No one is disputing that Spock," Nogura added, in a firm voice. "What we are talking about are his actions of the last few days."

"And the actions of Admiral Sui sir," Spock shot back, in a tone of voice that would have been a challenge if it had contained any feeling. "It would be illogical not to acknowledge that Doctor Daystrom has suffered an adverse psychological event that has altered his personality." Then he turned his head to regard the woman on the holo screen. "A circumstance that Admiral Sui is in some measure responsible for."

Her eyes meet his, and after several seconds, they flicked in Nogura's direction, followed by a miniscule nod. "Yes," she finally said, the thin line of her mouth deepening into a frown, "that is certainly something we will have to look into."

Spock nods in turn. "I would of course, be willing to offer testimony at a board of inquiry ma'am."

"That won't be necessary Spock," Nogura responds with a scowl.

"There will be no board of inquiry, not for the present," Carsons stated, her gaze fixed on Spock. "Doctor Daystrom will not be fit to give testimony for quite some time. Until that changes, what happened will remain classified. Are we all clear on that?"

"What about my Cadets Secretary Carsons?" Pike demanded, speaking for the first time.

"I will make the transcripts of their conversations with M-5 available to Admiral Barnett. With the condition that none of that information is placed in the public record without my expressed permission."

Pike nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Spock does first. "Considering what has already transpired, is secrecy the wisest course of action Secretary Carsons?"

A long silence followed, which Pike broke by standing. "Admiral Nogura, Secretary Carsons. I know you had good reasons for asking us to this meeting, but I think it's past time that Commander Spock got some rest. He scheduled to begin Regen therapy in just a few hours."

"Yes of course," the woman answered, a note of relief in her voice. "Thank you both for coming, especially you Commander."

"Let's go Spock," Pike said, in a tone that made it clear that this was an order. He stood reluctantly, uneasy at leaving things as they were.

"We will discuss these matters again," Carsons stated, as if she could read his mind, "when you are fully recovered Commander."

Then they were out the door and heading toward the elevator, with Pike setting a brisk pace. Nothing was said until the doors slid shut, and Pike rounded on him, anger plainly written on his face. "What the hell did you think you were doing back there?"

For a moment Spock thought that this was one of those rhetorical questions, but at his Captain's high pitched 'well' he quickly found his voice. "Seeking clarification sir."

"Clarification? Is that what you call it? Because to me it really sounded like you were trying to piss off the two most powerful people in Starfleet."

"That was not my intent sir."

"Would you mind explaining just what you were doing?"

"To point out that responsibility for what occurred does not fall solely on Doctor Daystrom."

"They know that Spock."

"That was not the impression that was given Captain. They seemed quite eager to minimize Admiral Sui's role."

Pike took a deep breath. "There's a reason for that. If Sui takes the hit for this, there's a good chance that Secretary Carsons will go down with him. It was her decision to give him authority over the project."

"Are you suggesting that Admiral Sui be allowed to avoid culpability for his actions?"

"Hell no, and neither are they. They just don't want that to come as a result of a board of inquiry. Which wouldn't help Daystrom either, by the way."

"Please explain sir."

"Even if he was held completely blameless, his reputation would be ruined."

Spock nods in understanding. "He might consider that of little importance sir, if it would allow him to regain a place in the M-5 program."

"Not going to happen Spock. No matter what finding a board would hand down, no one in Starfleet is going to trust him with authority like that again."

"And what of Admiral Sui Captain? Will he be entrusted with authority again?"

"No," Pike muttered, shaking his head as the door opened. "I'm sure that Nogura would love to fire his ass if that didn't compromise Carsons position. He'll be given the opportunity to retire after things cool down for a few weeks."

"Why is Admiral Nogura so concerned over Secretary Carsons' position?"

"In one word: Enterprise. Nogura's been pushing for years to get ships like Enterprise built. Ships that were dedicated to long range autonomous exploration. Carsons made that happen for him."

"I was not aware of those facts Captain."

"Didn't expect you would be. It's politics Spock, pure and simple. Nogura knows how to play the game, and I suppose that's a good thing, because otherwise I never would have gotten Enterprise. That doesn't mean we have to like it."

"Indeed not, sir."

"Just remember one thing," Pike continued softly, as they approached the ground car that would take Spock to the Soval Medical Center. "There isn't much that Nogura wouldn't do to protect Secretary Carsons. Not much at all."

**A/N: That was a little quicker then last time. If you like what you're reading, click on the review button and let me know. And helpful hints will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Truth and Consequences

_Everything was exactly how she remembered it. The shock of fear when she heard the phaser discharge. The certainty that she could never live with running away, no matter what Pike had ordered her to do. The horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach when she edged around the ditanium memory core and saw the still forms of Pike, Floinn, and Baeill sprawled in front of her. Not dead, her mind protested, and she wasn't sure why that wasn't a question. The anger and dread that propelled her along the sleek black wall of the core, one silent step at a time, as Daystrom ranted at Spock about conspiracies and Starfleet. The moment when she got a clear view of Petty Officer Baeill injuries, when her dread mutated into a cold fury. The tingling sensation she felt (imagined?) in her head as she reached for the weapon, that prompted her to look up directly into the Commander's eyes just as he uttered the word no. From that moment of memory, nothing was the same. _

_It was like seeing herself on a holo screen, playing a part she couldn't remember. Only this scene had transmuted from drama to horror. She saw her own hand close around the phaser, but there wasn't a damned thing she could do, other then watch as the disaster quickly progressed. Her doppelganger assumed the position that had been drilled into her at the Academy firing range. Knees slightly bent, with feet one-half meter apart, right hand gripping the phaser, with the left supporting her right wrist. Events seemed to speed up, even as her movements slowed to a crawl. Spock's voice calling out, Daystrom's body turning with a sharp jerk, her finger depressing the trigger, the beam of ruby red light burning through her target's torso (oh my God…it's set to kill…), the bright blue bolt that erupted from Daystrom's phaser, slicing into the Commander's chest, with a brief splash of green. Her scream echoing off the walls as she ran toward them. Spock staring up at her with wide, dead eyes, and when she turned on Daystrom with a curse, he was grinning at her when he discharged his weapon…_

…with a straggled cry Uhura shot up into a sitting position, her hand splayed across her chest…oh God…her palm pressed against the smooth fabric of her night shirt. There was no blood, no stink of burnt flesh. On shaking legs she stumbled into the head, splashing cold water over her face. After her breathing had returned to something like normal, she filled a glass with water, drinking the cold liquid down eagerly, then dried her face with a towel. Walking silently back into the room she sat at her desk, feeling herself slowly unwind. At least Gaila was still asleep this time, sprawled out on her bed, a small smile on her face. Last evening had seen Uhura awaken screaming from the image of Daystrom killing the others and then himself, while she stood powerless, frozen in fear. Gaila had pressed her for nearly an hour afterward, until she'd finally given up in the face of Uhura's badly told excuses. How could she say anything to her friend in the face of Admiral Nogura's explicit orders not to speak about what had happened? With a sigh, Uhura rubbed the heels of her hands into her burning eyes.

What the hell was wrong with her? During the last forty-eight hours, a malaise of fatigue had settled on her like a rain soaked coat, leaving her feeling both confused and infuriated. She couldn't concentrate during classes, she didn't remember much of anything she tried to read, and the thought of food made her feel slightly nauseous. To top everything off, Uhura had spent the last two days feeling very much like her brief sojourn on Enterprise wasn't really finished yet, because she didn't have a clue about what had actually happened afterward. She'd heard nothing from Pike or Chief Floinn about anything since Nogura had dismissed her with his warning. Ok, so that really wasn't much of a surprise, but some kind of word about Spock and Aileen's condition would have been nice.

Then right before going to bed last night, a message from Pike had appeared on her comm. It was brief, an audio only request for her to report to him at 0800 the next morning. Nothing about her injured companions, or even a reason for wanting to see her, though Uhura had a pretty good guess at that. A glace at her chronograph told her that meeting was less then three hours from now. No way she was going back to sleep, no matter how tired she felt. What she really needed now was a good workout. She stood and began changing into her gym clothes. She'd take her uniform with her and have a good time imagining kicking ass before their meeting, where Pike was probably going to kick hers because of what she had done on Enterprise.

Uhura cursed mentally as soon as she heard the sounds of feet shuffling across the hard rubber mats, along with the occasional grunt of effort. Someone was already there. He was tall and gangly, dressed in disreputable sweat pants and a washed out, worn tee shirt. A pair of huge, padded orange gloves were strapped to his hands, and the holographic head gear he wore hid his face. At the moment, he was gracelessly hopping around, holding the gloves in front of his face, occasionally snapping off jabs into the air as he bobbed and weaved in an awkward manner.

With a shrug, she went over to the speed bag. Out came her music solid and ear buds, which silenced the noise coming from the other side of the gym. Slipping on her hand wraps, she worked on her form, starting some out with jabs, followed by left right combinations and palm strikes. After she'd worked up a sweat, she moved on to the speed bag, working it for two minute stretches interspersed with thirty second breaks, continuing until her hands started getting sore. Then it was over to the punching bag to have some fun. She always did the hand work first, because that was what she needed to improve on. Work first, and save the pleasure for last.

The roundhouse kicks came first, alternating with the left for five, before repeating with the right, until she'd done fifty. Each kick produced a satisfying snap as the ball of her foot slammed into the bag, which was soon dancing on the chain that it hung from. Uhura then moved on to front kicks, focusing on a point of impact equal in height to exactly six inches from the top of her head. Then a flurry of jabbing side kicks, which she never bothered to count those, just continuing to work until her legs were shaky. During the workout she felt her spirits lift a little, as she focused on the mechanics of each action, the balance of her body, and the feeling of moving in a disciplined manner. That concentration was particularly pleasing, since it had been so difficult to achieve over the last few days, and she even managed to put the worry over what Pike would do out of her head for a while. After her last side kick she took several quick steps back, then launched her self into a flying kick that sent the bag jerking on it's chain.

"That's damned impressive Ny," a familiar voice drawled, and when she twisted around there was Len McCoy, holding his helmet loosely in his gloved right hand.

"Len? What are you doing here?" She demanded, shocked to find it was him she'd been sharing the gym with. His face was damp with sweat, and his left eye was swollen and discolored. No wonder he'd been working on keeping his guard up.

"Good question," he rumbled with a shrug. "I feel like a damned fool in this getup."

It was typical McCoy she decided, struggling not to laugh. "What going on Len?"

"What you really mean is, what the hell am I doing in a gym, don't you?" He snarked, ruining the effect with a small smile. When she nodded he took a deep breath and almost hit himself in the face when his right hand came up to scratch his nose. Muttering a curse, looked at her and stuck both his hands out. "Would you mind helping me get these blasted things off?"

"Of course." The orange gloves were strapped tightly to wrist, but it only took a while for her to loosen them enough so that she could pull them off. The equipment looked vaguely familiar, but Uhura didn't think she'd ever seen anyone use gloves like these. "What are those things Len?"

"Boxing gloves."

"Boxing gloves? No one boxes any more Len."

"You know me Ny. I'm kinda an old fashioned guy. Besides…all that kicking you do, it's undignified."

"Jerk," she muttered, throwing one of the gloves at him. "So what gives McCoy, cause I remember you telling me every time I tried to get you into the gym that you didn't do fighting."

"Yeah," he answered in disgust. "Well…things have changed, thanks to Pike."

"What do you mean?"

"Our new Provost thinks I need to learn how to defend myself…among other things."

"It's about time."

"I didn't ask your opinion Uhura," he snapped turning away.

They'd had this conversation more then once. As a freshman, she had admired McCoy for his refusal to knuckle under and be a good little cadet. Part of that was her irritation over what she considered the outdated rules of the military, an attitude she came by honestly from her parents. Another big reason was that back then she'd been crushing on him. He was irreverent, smart, and damned good looking. Here was a man who treated her like a adult, and who wasn't intimidated by her intelligence. Unfortunately there were issues, namely that McCoy was still raw from his divorce, and Uhura didn't think she had the time (or the confidence), to help him get over those emotions. Building a friendship was the best thing for both of them she'd decided, and it was one of the smartest choices she'd ever made, despite the fact that he could be a pig headed man at times. Like right now.

"That's because you don't need to, since I've already told you what I think. Repeatedly."

"I'm a doctor damn it, not Muhammad Ali. This is just a waste of my time."

"It a requirement Len," she answered, shaking her head. "If you're going to be on a Starship, you need to be able to defend yourself."

"I don't see why," he sputtered. "Knowing how to throw a punch won't make a damned bit of difference to the patients I'm supposed to treat. Besides, no one cared about this crap before that bastard Pike arrived."

"They should have," she insisted. "It's wasn't fair that you were treated differently then the rest of us, just because you happen to be a Doctor."

"I never asked anyone to do that!" He countered, throwing his hands up.

Uhura knew that was true, but it was beside the point. McCoy didn't demand to be excused from self defense, he just didn't go after the first few classes, and the Academy let him get away with it, because Starfleet wanted the skills he could provide. He was an experienced xeno practitioner who could treat Adorians, Tellerites, as well as Terrans. More then that, he was willing to sign up for long term deep space missions. Individuals with that profile were exceedingly rare, which meant that McCoy could get away with ignoring the mandatory classes he didn't want to take. At least until now. Apparently, Pike wasn't someone who would look the other way, regardless of what the fleet wanted.

"It's still not fair Len. How do you think it makes the rest of us feel, when you get to slide on stuff as basic as personal self defense? Then there's the certification classes you blew off. Everyone else has to take them to get a commission."

"Well you don't heed to worry about it anymore," he growled. "That idiot Pike put all that crap on my schedule! Hell, I'll be lucky if I get four hours sleep a night this semester."

"Good."

"You know what, I don't really need this right now!" He started to turn away, but she was quicker, reaching out to grip his shoulder.

"Please…just listen for a minute," she pleaded, and after a moment, he nodded sullenly.

"I realize you're not happy about this, but I am…"

"No kidding…," he grunted.

…I'm happy because I didn't think I'd ever have the chance to serve with you, and that's something I would have regretted."

"Christ," he muttered, looking away. "I was that bad huh?"

"I know you're really good at what you do Len," she answered softly. "I see how much you care, what helping people means to you, even if you'd never admit it. If I were running Starfleet, I'd want you on one of my ships."

"But you're not," he mumbled, after clearing his throat. "Besides, even if you were, what Captain in his right mind would want a trouble maker like me in his crew?"

"Do you even want assignment on a starship?" She asked, observing carefully so she could gauge his answer.

"Now why the hell would I be here at 0500 prancing around like a fool," he bellowed, waving the helmet over his head, "if it wasn't so I could get my shit together?"

"Why are you using that Len?"

"The VR? Because according to my instructor, I'm so damned bad at this, that she can't safely spar with me yet," he grumbled, pointing at his black eye. "This is supposed to improve my reaction time."

"But why boxing?" Uhura didn't think any of the hand to hand instructors even taught it, since it wasn't part of the self defense curriculum.

"I'm hopeless when it comes to kicking. Of course, I'm not a hell of a lot better at punching people either."

"We should spar sometime," she suggested, smiling at the look of horror that flashed across his face.

"Now why would I want to get my ass kicked by you?"

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"For you maybe. For me, it just sounds like more pain," he muttered in disgust. "I'd better get going. I've got rounds to do at Starfleet Medical, followed by zero gee training."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah, **_you _**would think so Ny. Did I mention that without the presence of gravity I tend to puke. Copiously."

He trudged off before she could think of an answer. While she felt some sympathy for his predicament, McCoy bore most of the responsibility for his present situation. If he wanted that commission, he was just going to have to suck it up and do the work. Right now, that put him in a better position that her. His fate was in his own hands, and she had no doubt that if being a Starfleet officer was what Leonard McCoy really wanted, then nothing would stop the man. In her case, Uhura no longer had much say at all about her future, despite two and one half years of hard work. Captain Pike would be deciding that for her in just under two hours.

Since it was Saturday, most of the Admin building was deserted, so she wasn't surprised that was no one was sitting at the desk in the small reception area when she arrived at Captain Pike's office. Resisting the temptation to flee, Uhura walked up to the door and pressed the buzzer. Nothing. She counted to ten in her head before reaching for it again, but Pike's tired voice stopped her.

"Yes?"

"Cadet Uhura, reporting as requested sir." 'Requested' really wasn't the right word, but it felt right. Dignified.

"Come in Cadet."

The door slid open and she stepped inside. He was sitting at a desk offset to the right side of the room. At least she thought he was. She could see the top of a head that she assumed belonged to Pike, but the rest of him was hidden behind the large number of PADDs stacked along the top of the desk, along with several dozen data solids and a large display panel. After a few moments Pike slowly stood up, his head and shoulders rising above the detritus. The man looked absolutely exhausted, complete with disheveled hair, blood shot eyes and a rumpled uniform. She stood staring at him while he stretched and yawned, and then looked at her with a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright Cadet?"

"Yes sir. Are you?"

He chuckled briefly, shaking his head. "I've been better. Haven't got much sleep in the last couple of days. I'm guessing the same is true of you."

She nodded, not really sure what to say. Maybe she was wrong about the reason for this meeting. Pike certainly didn't seem angry with her. "Yes it is sir," she answered hesitantly. "I haven't sleep well since I got back from…," her voice trailed off, not sure what to say. Uhura didn't want to talk about that right now, because discussing what happened on Enterprise would lead to a conversation that she wasn't looking forward to. So she took a deep breath and asked him about something else she'd been worrying about.

"Can you tell me how Petty Officer Baeill and Commander Spock are doing sir?"

"Damn…no one told you?" His voice conveyed both surprise and anger, which left her flustered.

"No sir… I know they were hurt…and I haven't heard anything. I tried to call you several times…Chief Floinn too."

He looked down and rubbing his forehead. "Sorry you weren't informed Ms. Uhura. Spock is fine. Petty Officer Baeill is…well she's still under going treatment, but expected to make a full recovery." There was a long silence that she decided not to fill as Pike paced back and forth across the room several times, muttering too softly to be understood.

"Please have a seat," he finally said, gesturing to three chairs drawn up around a small, round table. "I need coffee. Would you like some?" Wanting to be polite, she nodded and his hand reached down to flick the comm on his desk. "Maclin, would you please hunt me down some coffee. Maclin?"

"Sir, there's no one out there."

He started to open his mouth, then closed it again, letting out a deep breathe. "It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"Yes sir."

Shaking his head, Pike slowly walked to the far corner of the room, where a replicator was set up on a small bureau. His fingers tapped out the code on the display and several seconds later the door opened to reveal two disposable cups. He brought one to Uhura and sat across from her, cradling his. "Terrible stuff, but it's caffeine."

She took a sip and almost spit the wretched liquid out, wishing she hadn't been quite so courteous. Pike practically inhaled his beverage, without seeming to realize how bad it was. Or maybe he was just used to it. Then he set his nearly empty cup on the table and looked at her intently.

"I want apologize Ms. Uhura. I should have made sure you were kept in the loop about Spock and Baeill."

"I'm sure you've had a lot of things on your mind sir."

"That's no excuse. Chief Floinn has been up on Enterprise pretty much non stop, so it was my responsibility."

"How is she sir?" She asked wanting to change the subject. For some reason Uhura didn't like the idea of Captain Pike telling her he was sorry.

"Chief Floinn? You can ask her yourself when she gets here."

"She's coming here?"

"That's right. Should be joining us any minute. I asked her to sit in on this meeting."

Uhura nodded, shifting in her chair. "Sir, may I ask…"

The door slid open, and Murnie Floinn stomped into the room, wearing fleet overalls that were streaked with grease and flecks of different colored paint. There was a smudge of some unidentifiable black substance on her left cheek, which contrasted nicely with what the pale complexion of her face. As soon as the door shut, she fixed her gaze on Captain Pike and opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when she noticed they were not alone. Muttering something in her native tongue, she stalked toward Pike, stopping only inches away from him. Then she looked over at Uhura and smiled.

"Tis good to see ye again Cadet," she declared softly. Then she turned to Pike and snapped to attention. "Chief Floinn reporting as ordered sir," she barked, her face blank.

"Stop it Chief," Pike answered, the corners of his mouth turning up into a grin. "As I recall, that message I left you was a request, not an order."

"Really sir, a request?" She shot back, looking past him. "Well if that is indeed the case, ye will pardon me if I head straight back to Enterprise, and be about me work sir."

"Sit down Chief, this won't take too long. And just so you know, I've been studying Hibernian vocabulary."

The Chief ducked her head, but that did nothing to hide her sly smile. "Tis truly gratifying that you would go to the trouble to learn me language sir. Or at least the naughty bits."

Chuckling, Pike went to refill his coffee, bringing a cup for Floinn as well. After handing her the drink, he took the chair directly across from Uhura. Like a light switching off, the easy going demeanor was gone, and she was suddenly faced with a pair of hard eyes set in a face of stone.

"Do you know why you're here Ms. Uhura?" He demanded, in a frosty tone.

"Yes sir…I think I do."

"Then tell me Cadet."

She took a deep breath and looked down, speaking in a firm voice. "Because I disobeyed your order to remain behind when you and Commander Spock went to confront Doctor Daystrom sir."

Pike nodded and looked at Floinn, then sat back and sipped his coffee. "Why Cadet?"

"I thought…," Uhura began, stopping to take a breath. She glanced at Floinn, but the Chief's expression was unreadable. "I guess I just couldn't make myself leave sir…after I heard the phaser discharge. I waited by the door, hoping you would come out and tell me everything was all right. When you didn't, I needed to know why. I just wanted to be sure sir."

"Sure of what?"

"That you and Commander Spock were alright. When I saw the Commander with Doctor Daystrom…and you and the others lying on the deck…I didn't think I could get back with help in time."

"I don't recall that protecting us was any part of your orders Ms. Uhura."

"So I was supposed to do what sir? Leave you in the hands of an armed and unstable individual? How could I live with myself if anything happened while I was getting help?"

"Maybe you should be asking yourself how you could have lived with yourself if anything had happened to the other people on that ship," he growled. Standing abruptly, he walked over to his desk and plucked a PADD off one of the piles. "Do you know how many personnel were on Enterprise that day?"

"No sir I don't."

He looked down at the PADD and tapped out a command. "There were 228 construction techs, along with 17 engineers, 6 security, 8 food service personnel and a doctor. They were the reason I ordered you to go for help if anything happened. You risked their lives so you could protect four people."

"Oh my God," she whispered, shaking her head.

"I took a calculated risk when I went after Daystrom Ms. Uhura," Pike continued, crossing his arms over his chest, "because I thought I had a back up, someone I could count on to warn them if something happened to Commander Spock and me."

"I didn't think…" she began, lapsing into an uncomfortable silence. Then with a small shrug of slender shoulders, she went on. "One of the things they drill into us at the Academy is that you don't leave your shipmates behind. That's all I could think about."

"You had a responsibility to warn them Cadet, no matter what might have happened to us."

"Yes sir," Uhura answered, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes. "I understand that now Captain. You will have my notification of intent to withdraw from the Academy on your desk by tomorrow." She started to stand, intending to come to attention and request permission to leave, before she lost control and began to weep, but Pike's firm voice stopped her.

"Sit down Cadet," he commanded. She hesitated for a few seconds, then slowly lowered herself back into the chair.

"Do you want to leave the Academy Cadet?" He inquired, after studying her face for nearly half a minute.

"No sir," she answered in a weak voice, "I don't."

"Then why?"

"I don't want to go before a court martial sir."

"There's not going to be any court martial Cadet," he shot back. "In fact, as far as Starfleet is concerned, nothing happened at all."

"I don't have the regs memorized sir, but I'm pretty sure that any reported instance of disobeying a superior is subject to a court martial."

"Right ye are girl," Floinn responded, "any _reported _occurrence, at the discretion of the ranking officer of course."

"I don't understand," Uhura responded, fighting hard to keep her voice even. "Why wouldn't you report this?"

"Because Admiral Nogura doesn't want that," Pike admitted, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

"What!"

"Do you have a hearing problem Cadet?"

"Sorry sir. Did the Admiral give a reason?"

"No he did not, and I didn't ask, because it none of my business." When Uhura started to protest, Pike quickly cut her off. "And it's none of yours either. Are you clear on that?"

"Yes sir."

Pike nodded and walked back over from where he'd been standing by his desk, until he was almost on top of her. "Stand up Cadet, I want you at attention." After a moments hesitation, Uhura shot to her feet, stepping away from the chair, and assumed the regulation posture.

"Good." Then he stepped forward until he face was only a few inches from hers. "I want to be sure you understand something else. I have a very low tolerance for people under my command who can't follow orders. Especially when they happen to be new crew members. If this incident had happened while you were on a ship of mine, you'd be on your way home by now. Do you read me Ms. Uhura?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"I know you want to be on Enterprise, but I have to say that right now I don't think I'd be willing to take a chance on you."

"But sir, if this isn't part of my record…."

"Officially, it isn't. However, there's another record, one that's not official, that I keep up here," he answered, tapping a finger against his head. "That's the one you're going to have to set straight if you want to be on my ship."

"Thank you sir, for allowing me that opportunity," she answered promptly in a soft, but determined voice, "and for giving me a chance to learn from my mistake."

"You're welcome Cadet. Dismissed."

Uhura was almost to the door when Chief Floinn called out to her. "Would ye mind waiting for me in the reception area Cadet? I would like to have a word."

Uhura turned and nodded, then quickly slipped out the door. "Ok Chief," Pike muttered, as soon as the door was closed, "what's your beef?"

"Why did ye spout off that blarney about not reporting the girl's disobedience due to Admiral Nogura's mania for secrecy sir?"

"What do you mean blarney? You know as well as I do that Nogura would nix a court martial. Too much publicity."

"Please Captain," she snapped, her fists planted on her hips. "Remember who ye are speaking to. A court martial? Tis not even appropriate under the circumstances being that she is a Cadet, and not technically under your command. An official reprimand on the other hand, would be."

"I don't really want to do that Chief."

"And why not sir?"

"Because I don't think Starfleet Personnel would let her on my ship with a reprimand on her record, at least not right out of the Academy."

"Why would ye even consider having the girl on Enterprise sir?"

"Chief, I've seen her record. That women soaks up languages like a sponge. She'd be an incredible asset for the kind of mission we'll be undertaking."

"I cannot believe me ears sir. How can ye overlook what she did?"

"I'm not overlooking anything Chief," Pike answered, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "We put her in a position that she wasn't prepared to handle."

"The girl is in her third year in training to be an officer. If she does not yet understand what it means to follow orders, when will she finally make sense of it?"

"That's just it," he responded, shaking his head. "I don't think it's Cadet Uhura as much as the instruction she's received. What ever the hell she's learned here, it's not preparing her to be a Starfleet officer."

"Ye know Captain, that sounds a might thin. That girl is head strong and very sure of her place in the world, and in Starfleet. Full of ambition she is. I truly wonder how she would care for those who would be placed in her charge."

"Come on Chief," he answered, his tone skeptical, "of course she's ambitious. Anyone who signs up at the Academy is going to fit that description. You know what the first thing Cadet Uhura asked about when she walked into this room? She wanted to know how Spock and your niece were doing."

"No one had told her?"

"No. I should have, but Barnett has had me running since we got back from Enterprise."

"I had the time and opportunity," she said quietly, "but it never crossed me mind sir." After a few seconds she stood up and wandered over to the window. "Why do ye insist on this Captain?"

"I've told you this before; I hate waste Chief." He went over to where she was standing. Even though it was a Saturday, he could see the figures of numerous cadets hurrying along the walk ways below. Turning to Floinn, he offered her his PADD. "I think if you take a good look at her record, you'll see that Nyota Uhura is worth a second chance."

"Nyota." She muttered, staring at the device. "Tis a pretty name." Then her expression hardened. "Send it to me sir. I have not the time to see it now."

"Look, I'm not suggesting that we give her a free pass on this. Just that she has a chance to prove that she can learn from her mistake."

"And how do ye think she can prove herself sir, having just shared your low opinion of the Academy's training methods."

"I've got some ideas. Things are going to change around here Chief. In fact Barnett and I will be talking about that tonight. I'd like you there."

"Why sir?"

"I need feedback Chief. One of the things I've noticed is that most of the training regime here is simulation based. We need more realism. These kids need to get out into the field."

"I am going to see Aileen tonight sir. McCoy is going to revive her from her induced coma. I intend to be there."

"Damn, I should be too," he grunted with a frown. "McCoy's been sending me updates, and they sound good. Will Spock be there?''

"McCoy told me the Commander has not left Aileen's side since he awoke from his healing trance, except to eat a bit."

"Who said Vulcans don't fell guilt?" She nodded, and after a brief silence he went on. "Tomorrow night then. Tell Spock I'd like him there as well."

"I will sir, though I do wonder if Nogura will let the Commander attend. I believe the Admiral has designs of adding him to his staff."

"Admiral Barnett approved Spock application, so he's part of the faculty here as of today."

"Very neatly done sir. Tis clear your bureaucratic skills are much better then I had thought. Ye will make a fine paper shuffler, once they kick your hind end up to the Admiralty."

"You're a real comedian Chief," he groused, shuddering at the thought of being chained to a desk. Floinn smiled at him and turned to leave. She was almost to the door when she stopped.

"I will examine the Ms. Uhura's record sir," she announced, still facing the door.

"Thank you Chief. All I ask is that you try and keep an open mind about this."

"And the same for you Captain," she retorted, turning to face him. "At times, ye are far too confident in the surety of your judgments for me liking."

"Maybe so, but I'm usually right," he shot back, flashing an almost boyish grin that made her breathe catch.

Christopher Pike was a good looking man as it was, but when he smiled in that manner, a woman could lose her good sense. Murnie Floinn knew that all too well, as she had been resisting the effect of that grin since she'd first shipped out with him. It was a losing battle, she reflected with some irritation, and at times like this it made her think hard about the wisdom of staying within his orbit. Except for the fact that the things that made him so attractive to her as a man, were exactly the reasons why he excelled as a Starship Captain. Not the least of those qualities was his uncanny ability to judge people. He knew that Mr. Spock would be an asset to him, even if the crew would have difficulty adjusting to his emotionless demeanor. He'd believed in Aileen when she had given up on her niece, and he was probably right about Cadet Uhura too she decided, with no little annoyance. She had wanted Aileen sent home, but Pike had not only found away to keep her on Valiant, he'd plugged her in with the Commander, who had become Aileen's mentor, as well as one of Floinn's closest friends. And just like that the Chief knew what she should do. There was a simplicity and obviousness to the whole idea that made her smile in a manner that Pike apparently found to be vaguely alarming.

"Are you alright Chief?" He inquired, and she laughed, which caused even more concern. "I don't like that smile. It means trouble," he declared, and she shook her head.

"Not at all sir. Tis merely a thought that I had concerning how I could assist Ms. Uhura."

"Now I'm really worried." He said. There was an awkward pause, which Floinn knew was due to the man expecting her to say what she had in mind. Well he could go and bugger himself she decided. He'd find out when she was good and ready to tell him.

"I must be leaving sir. I have a full day on Enterprise before I can see Aileen tonight."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

It was so pleasing to get one over on him for once. The door slid open for her, closing with a satisfying thunk before Pike could say anything more. Floinn immediately spied the Cadet slouched on a couch on the other side of the small reception area. She had an unguarded, sullen expression that quickly transformed into one that the Chief would categorize as serious, yet hopeful. This girl is a budding actress, but not a pretentious one Floinn decided, since she would only perform when an audience was available.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself missy," Floinn admonished, which causeed the other woman to jump slightly, then rise smoothly to her feet. Standing razor straight, Uhura was half a head taller then the Chief, which mattered not at all to Floinn, who was well used to the disadvantage of her shorter stature.

"I hope that ye ken how fortunate ye are Cadet."

"I… I do Chief," Uhura stammered, looking down. "I won't disappoint you."

"Good," Floinn said, pitching her voice softer. "What are ye plans for tonight?"

"I don't have any ma'am. Just the usual studying I guess. Why?"

"Captain Pike said to me that ye were not informed about me niece's condition, nor of Commander Spock as well. I must apologize, for I should have taken the time to make sure that ye knew that they both were doing well."

"It's alright…I 'm just glad that they're both recovering."

"Tis most certainly is not 'alright' Cadet. I would like to make it up to ye. I am going to visit Aileen tonight, and would very much appreciate it if ye would accompany me."

"Really?" Uhura answered, with a big grin. "I would love to Chief."

"Tis the least I can do. Aileen will pleased to see ye as well. I shall meet you at the North Gate at 2000 hours. Until then Ms. Uhura."

The Cadet seemed less subdued, and a little more sure of herself as they parted. Though it would not do to take the moods the girl displayed on face value. Chief Floinn had already see that Ms. Uhura could be a consummate actor when the situation demanded it. She had seen definite signs of fatigue on her face, but the young woman's voice had never betrayed weariness of any sort, which was impressive considering her situation. Look at her record the Captain had said, but Floinn knew perfectly well that there was only so much you could learn about a person from their accomplishments. Of course Pike was aware of this as well, but one had to start some where. What they both wanted to know is whether this young woman would work well as part of a group, if she could follow orders when they were given, as well as give instructions in a manner which would be effective. In other words, would Nyota Uhura be the kind of shipmate that they needed on Enterprise. Perhaps the Captain thought he already knew the answer to that question, but Murnie Floinn wasn't at all sure of it. She would have to be convinced.

**A/N: Yes, I'm still writing this story! Sorry for the delay between posts, but I just couldn't get were I wanted to go straight in my head. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Please take the time to drop me a word on what you think.**

**Hey LovesFanFic, thanks a lot for the reviews. Maybe I've been a little vague on my time line. In this story, the events of the movie are almost a year and a half away, so expect quite a few changes. Of course that means I'm going to have to speed things up a bit. We'll see about that. Thanks also to Chandlia and OneofJennifer for your kind words. I hope you like this one.**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: A Petty Officer and a Gentleman

The most conspicuous feature of the Soval Medical Center was the quality of silence that permeated the institute. This attribute, beyond the comfortable warmth of the facility, the odors of familiar food, or even the sensation of proper gravity offered the best evidence that this was a facility managed by Vulcans. Coming from almost seven years of immersion in Terran culture, Spock found the nearly complete lack of ambient sound to be jarring. The mostly human support staff seemed to have adapted quite well to the regime of silence, something that Spock would not have thought possible given the disquiet that Terrans usually displayed regarding a prolonged lack of noise. In contrast to his all too frequent visits to sickbay while serving on the Valiant, the scanning process was not accompanied by superfluous inquiries concerning his heath. The whole procedure was marked by a clinical detachment that was completely logical. In reality, Spock found the relentless efficiency of the admission process to be faintly disturbing.

Within minutes of his arrival he was ushered into an examination room, where his primary Healer was waiting. Her name was T'Svul. She was nearly as tall as he, and thin even by the norms of his people. Though her dark, graying hair was cut in a short, severe manner, T'Svul was in all other respects the model of what one expected of a Vulcan Healer. Which was to say that she was gentle of voice, willing to explain exactly what his treatment entailed, but not open to any suggestions on the part of her patient. This last point could have been a source of contention had they both not been in agreement that his injury did not require regen therapy. Instead, she proscribed a balm for his burns and a healing trance of forty hours in duration, along with a small perma skin graft. When he objected to the length of time, T'Svul admonished him for never dealing properly with the lingering injuries he had suffered on the Valiant. There was no counter argument that he could make to that statement, since her observation was correct. Additional time in the trace would accelerate the process of healing his respiratory system. Moreover, if he was absolutely honest with himself, he desperately needed the rest. There was one duty he needed to perform first. When he told T'Svul what it was, she reluctantly agreed to allow it.

Whatever qualms Spock might have concerning Leonard McCoy as a Starfleet officer, he had proved to be an excellent doctor. Aileen looked to be in better condition then he had thought possible. The burns on her face were considerably reduced in appearance, leaving only reddish blotches that would heal without visible scars. Spock lightly brushed a forefinger over her arm to confirm what he already suspected, that Aileen's pain was being managed efficiently through the method of a drug induced coma. He glanced up to see an eyebrow raised on T'Svul's otherwise impassive face.

"I wish to be certain that Ms. Baeill was not suffering unnecessarily," he explained, suppressing his irritation at the need to offer any comment at all.

"What is she to you Spock?"

"Petty Officer Baeill is my shipmate, and a valued associate," he answered immediately. "She was injured while on a mission at my behest."

"Certainly not an unusual occurrence," T'Svul responded firmly, "considering the career choice you have made. Yet, you project the guilt this has engendered within you in a manner that would shame an adolescent. Your control is far less then is should be. You have lived apart from your people for too long."

A frisson of dismay shuddered through his mind on account of her words "You over step the bounds of propriety Healer," he answered, schooling his voice so as to reveal none of his inner turmoil, an undertaking in which he was apparently not wholly successful.

"Nonsense," she responded, with an easy confidence. "As a Healer, it would not be logical to restrict myself to only the physiological aspects of my patient's health. Your guilt is illogical. Your lack of control over this emotion clouds your judgment, and could precipitate a loss of restraint in other areas, with unfortunate repercussions."

"Surely T'Svul, you do not subscribe to the canard that emotion is absent from our people."

"Obfuscation is neither welcome nor necessary Spock. Where one is at fault through wrong action or willful inaction which results in harm to another being, regret over the outcome caused and a desire to make amends is a healthy emotional impulse, even for Vulcans. Is this an accurate description of the circumstances concerning this woman's injury?"

"Indeed not," he replied softly. "And yet, it was on account of my orders that her life was placed in jeopardy."

"Again, this is a circumstance that can hardly be avoided, considering your responsibilities."

"Perhaps. However, as her superior officer there is an obligation on my part to ensure that she can perform her duties in conditions of safety whenever possible. It was my failure to anticipate the possible danger of her latest mission which caused her to suffer injury."

"It is unfortunate that they are so vulnerable to pain," she offered in return, switching to Vulcan.

"Yet," he answered, falling easily into his native tongue, "it has been my experience that humans often display considerable tenacity in dealing with it."

"No criticism was intended Spock. Merely an observation. You will not find me among those who consider Terrans to be lacking when compared to our people."

"That is one of many things my association with humans has made obvious. Sentient beings should not be evaluated according to the gifts they are born into. Rather, it is how those gifts are used that should serve as the basis for how they are viewed."

"An interesting point of view considering your privileged status," T'Svul answered after several seconds consideration.

"Since you are aware of my status, then you should know that it is no longer privileged."

"For the moment. That kind of status does not change, no matter the temporary circumstances. You can never be free of your House, S'chn T'gai Spock."

He was momentarily taken aback, as it had been years since anyone had referred to him by his clan name. "Perhaps not, but my House appears determined to be free of me."

"You have not been cast out of S'chn T'gai. It was your choice to turn your back on your House and reject your father's will."

"Quite true," he replied with a shrug. "It is in any event of no moment."

"Your claim is specious. No true Vulcan should wish to remain alienated from the House of their ancestors."

"For the moment, I have little choice in the matter, since my father does not approve of the decisions I have made. In any event, I find myself content with my current situation, which I consider superior to any I could have obtained had I followed my father's wish to attend the Vulcan Science Academy."

"On what logical basis can you make such a claim? How can you prefer an organization steeped in aggression to those who would peacefully seek to discover the secrets of the universe?"

"In fact Starfleet is not dedicated to aggression. Rather, it's purpose is to guard against it. As to learning of the universe, I find that studying phenomena first hand to be more attractive then theorizing from a remote distance."

"Prevarication will not conceal that you have joined yourself to an agency that inflicts violence on other sentient beings. No matter the supposed nobility of it's goals, Starfleet's methods stand in opposition to the teachings of Surak."

"An interesting statement," he answered, one eyebrow raised, "considering the Vulcan High Command has long recognized that logic alone is not an effectual weapon with which to combat the Orion Syndicate, not to mention our siblings the Rihannsu."

"That is hardy a cogent reason to enlist your talents in Starfleet. If our commitment to logic and non-violence cannot always be perfectly realized, there is still a far greater possibility that these ideals will be honored in service to Vulcan, given the central part they are accorded in our culture."

"Based on my own experience, I find that proposition to be dubious. It was the failure to honor the most vital part of those teachings that lead to my decision to decline enrolement to the Vulcan Science Academy."

"So at last you admit to the heart of the matter, that your alienation is an emotional response to ill considered words of ignorance. One could understand your initial reaction to such flagrant disregard of our people's core beliefs. Yet to persist in this course of action for so long would seem to contradict your claim to follow the teachings of Surak."

"You are mistaken Healer. I still consider myself a son of Surak." He turned his head from the Healer to look at Baeill. "However, with this young woman and others like her, I have found a place where I do not have to make excuses for the one who gave birth to me."

"I have lived on Terra for a number of years Spock," she answered after a brief silence, "so I am well aware of the latent hostility that many of this planet's inhabitants harbor in regard to our people. Surely you know this?"

"Indeed. It is certainly true that a number of Terrans hold to what could be called irrational beliefs. However, despite the prejudices that have at times been conveyed, no human as ever expressed any doubt that I am what my own kind have never fully acknowledged me to be; a Vulcan."

"Those who questioned your heritage were wrong Spock. They failed to honor that which is at the core of Vulcan's most fundamental principles: the IDIC.* You should be aware that there are many of our people who do not share in your disparagement. Rather, we celebrate this new contribution to the diversity of Vulcan. However, there is also the question of your own actions. Why do you continue in this rejection of your house?"

"Your belief is in error. While I freely admit that my initial reaction was one induced by anger, such is no longer true. My career in Starfleet is not a rejection of Vulcan, or of S'chn T'gai. Rather, it is based solely on that which you rightly recognize as the foundation of Surak's philosophy. I seek knowledge of the greater diversity that the galaxy has to offer."

"Granted this, you still have been absent from Vulcan for far too long. The distress you feel in regards to Ms. Baeill's injury is all too evident. Your control is far less then is should be."

"I acknowledge your concern T'Svul, and assure you this condition is merely a result of fatigue and my injury."

"Perhaps. You would do well to consider that adherence to the Vulcan Way is not an individual exercise. The pursuit of logic is a path we must travel together." With that whispered warning, she turned and swept out of the chamber.

Spock took several deep breaths letting each one out slowly as he put aside the displeasure that had surfaced as a result of her words. He understood that in her own way, the Healer was simply trying to assist him. Viewing his situation objectively, much of what she had related was true. Sort of completing the Kolinhar rituals, Vulcans had no choice but to feel their emotions. What was not acceptable was the inability to control them. This was T'Svul's true complaint, along with her notion that his life beyond Vulcan society was at the root of his difficulty. One of Captain Pikes favorite sayings came to mind: he didn't give a damn. At this particular moment, he found himself completely unconcerned regarding his separation from Vulcan society, or even if this were indeed the source of the difficulty he was experiencing with emotional control. With respect to his choice to forsake the planet of his birth to live and work among humans, Spock was well satisfied that it had been the correct one, at least at the time. One of the benefits that accrued to him on account of this decision, was the opportunity to build a relationship with Aileen Baeill

During his time on the Valiant, he had found a place for himself, and companions that he could respect and even admire. On a starship, relationships were more intimate due to the tightly enclosed world they inhabited. Another contributing factor was the shared dangers of the profession they had chosen. Each member of the crew quickly came to understand the undeniable fact that at any moment, your life could very well be dependent on the actions of a shipmate. In such an environment trust was the indispensible commodity, and could only be earned through the daily mingling of their lives. It was a process he at first resisted, for the same reasons the T'Svul had stated earlier.

Emotions were to be feared, as both a distraction and as a possible contaminant. After Pike had made it clear that performing his duty as an officer and standing apart from the crew were mutually contradictory actions, he slowly began to unbend to the necessity of forming bonds with his shipmates. In Spock recollection, one of the key points in that process was his decision to accept Petty Officer Baeill into his staff. At the time his motivation was pure self interest, along with a stubborn desire to answer the challenge of his commanding officer. The intersection of these two impulses occurred when she arrived to confront him concerning her reassignment to his jurisdiction.

_At precisely 0911 hours the door to his small office slid open and Aileen Baeill marched in, coming to attention exactly 19.62 inches from the front of his desk. Interesting. Captain Pike had left a message on his comm that he would inform the young woman of her change in assignment at 0900 hours today. Considering the fact that Pike's office was three decks down and on the opposite periphery of the Valiant's saucer, Ms. Baeill had arrived with impressive dispatch. That fact, when considered in combination with the pinched expression of her facial features and the marked downward tilt displayed in the corners of her mouth indicated that his initial assumption of how she would except transfer to his department had been erroneous. Which begged the question of why he would have assumed he could divine the thought process of a human female he scarcely knew, when he had struggled for years to understand the emotional reactions of his own mother. All this absorbed his thought process in the few moments before Ms. Baeill barked out her demand. _

"_Request permission to speak with you sir."_

_Her voice was excessively confrontational, yet tremulous as well, an unfamiliar combination in tone that he had not experienced during his brief time on the Valiant. Indeed, this was the heart of his difficulty; that he had little ability to discern human emotions from the outward indicators of facial expression and voice tone that they provided. Perhaps it would have been wiser under the circumstances to follow Captain Pike's counsel, which had been for them both to inform the Petty Officer of her transfer to his staff together. The Captain assured him that this would serve to mitigate any anger that the Petty Officer would feel. Or at least what she would choose to display. In the end Spock had rejected this notion. While he was admittedly ignorant as to the source and expression of many human emotions, from his own perspective he was quite certain that anger suppressed was certainly not preferable to anger controlled. Eventually circumstances would present themselves in such a way that the underlying rage would slip it's cage, usually when least expected. For instance, during an interview for acceptance into a prestigious center of learning. He would not begin his relationship with this human hiding behind the Captain's authority._

"_Permission granted Petty Officer," he responded, looking up from his PADD._

"_Why would you do this?" She demanded, in a tone that even he could identify as hostile. _

_Anger and…something else. Confusion? Or was it one of those impenetrable human verbal conventions such as sarcasm? There was a phrase that came immediately to mind, one that humans seemed to be quite fond of, especially when applied to new shipmates such as himself. 'In over your head.' Spock had received first hand instruction on the meaning of this phrase during his initial fitness evaluation at the Academy. Specifically with reference to the immense distance between theory and practice concerning the art of propelling ones self through the water. There was another relevant phrase that perfectly described his dilemma both now and then: 'sink or swim.' While his fledgling introduction to the practice of swimming had been an abject failure, all that was required to correct this deficiency was repetitive training to master a well known technique. In his present situation, Spock suspected that he would only be allowed this initial opportunity be begin building a rapport with Ms. Baeill. Sink or swim indeed. With some trepidation, he cast aside his carefully constructed strategy of applying logical arguments to Ms. Baeill's situation. There was a basic point of fact he needed to establish, before anything else could be discussed, one that Ms. Baeill had refused to admit to despite ample evidence to the contrary. That she had great difficulty in exercising control in regards to he anger._

"_Do you wish to continue in Starfleet Ms. Baeill?"_

"_Do I…what do you mean sir?"_

"_You know perfectly well the meaning of my inquiry Petty Officer. Do you wish to remain a member of Starfleet?"_

"_Why would you even ask me that question Lieutenant?"_

"_Please be seated Ms. Baeill," he countered, gesturing to a chair by the corner of his desk._

_There was a reaction that he thought he recognized, one of surprise. First she glanced at the chair, and then back at him. After a slight shake of her head, the young woman lowered herself into the chair. Then her eyes narrowed and she tilted her chin upward, and Spock was perplexed as to what that meant. Later, after long association with Ms. Baeill he would come to know that expression as a sign of the young woman's determination. At that point in time, all her could conclude was that the Petty Officer did not appear to be as angry as she was only several moments ago. Perhaps another gesture would further ease the situation._

"_Would you care for some tea Ms. Baeill?"_

_There it was again. A clear sign of astonishment flashed across her face. A part of him wondered why a simple offered courtesy would elicit such a response. Before he could decide whether such an inquiry would be appropriate, Ms Baeill broke her silence._

"_No thank you sir. Why would you ask me such a preposterous question? Of course I want to stay in the fleet."_

"_Preposterous? I assure you Petty Officer that my inquiry is based solely on logic, and therefore cannot be described by the pejorative that you have employed."_

_Baeill blinked twice, then took a deep breath. "Do you always go on in such a matter sir?" _

"_Whenever possible."_

"_Whatever do you base your logic on, if you don't mind my asking sir?"_

"_On your Starfleet personnel jacket Petty Officer. In this case, the specific item being that in the course of your previous assignment as part of the crew of the USS Hood, you were officially reprimanded for insubordination and removed from the ship's company before your term of service had expired."_

"_I should have know," she growled rising slowly to her feet, "that you would throw that in my face. I hoped that you would be different Lieutenant Spock, that you would not concern yourself with my past, that you would not believe the lies of that damned bastard. I can see that I was mistaken, so I'll trouble you no further."_

"_You have not been dismissed Petty Officer," he intoned in his normal voice, which was exactly loud enough to be heard without difficulty, and of course completely devoid of emotion. By her reaction, which involved staring at him wide eyed for several seconds, he concluded it was not what she was expecting. Which was exactly what he wanted. _

_There was a tendency he had observed among officers new to the ship, to greet any potential conflict with those assigned to their command with a forceful verbal response. The younger and more insecure the officer, the more pronounced the histrionics. There were several problems for him in following a similar course of action. For one he was Vulcan, and thus not capable of projecting his emotions in such a manner. More to the point, the method was by his observation almost completely ineffectual. Obedience was almost a given on a starship, unless it involved following orders that endangered the mission or were clearly illegal. Respect was another matter. _

_To Spock, it seemed that those officers who engaged in exaggerated displays of emotion to compel a reflexive form of acquiescence, did so at the cost of forfeiting any regard of those who served under them. Such behavior on his part would have been counterproductive given the present circumstances, even if he had been capable of acting in such a manner. Several weeks ago he had asked Chief Floinn concerning the best methods to communicate his commands. 'Be yourself,' she had answered without hesitation, indicating that the crew would quickly see through anything else. That he decided was what he would be for Petty Officer Baeill. _

"_If you are anticipating an overt demonstration of my displeasure on account of your outburst, you will be disappointed. Now if you would be so kind as to sit once more, we can discuss this matter further."_

_After several moments hesitation, Baeill took a deep breath and nodded, sitting in the chair once more. Spock stood and walked over to the small replicator set in the wall by the door, and tapped out the code for two cups of tea. Then he placed one in front of her and resumed his seat. She stared at the cup for several seconds, then took it up with a steady hand, taking a deep swallow. Spock took a small sip of his own, then set it aside, steepling his fingers._

"_I am well aware of the fact that you consider yourself the injured party in this matter. However, whether you were provoked is irrelevant. The fact remains that the charge of insubordination was entered into your permanent record."_

"_How can you say that! That fecking excuse of an officer would not leave me be, no matter how I refused him."_

"_What is at issue here Petty Officer is not the justice of the charge against you. Rather it is the question of your capacity to do what is necessary to remain a member of Starfleet."_

"_Now you have me truly confused sir."_

"_Why did you assault Ensign Thomas Petty Officer?"_

"_You damned well know why Lieutenant! Thomas don't know his hind end from a Jeffries Tube. If I had not stopped him, he would have damaged the Valiant's sensors."_

"_I do not doubt the veracity of your claim. However, you could have prevented his error with means other then grasping his tunic and hurling him away from the sensor control board."_

"_I warned him Lieutenant! Told him that we were too near to the molecular cloud to safely engage the ship's long range sensors. The stupid caffler would no listen to me sir," she responded indignantly, her slight Hibernian accent becoming more noticeable. "Besides, naught was injured excepting the little cur's pride."_

"_Having had several conversations with Mr. Thomas, I will not take issue with your characterization of his intelligence. However, the methods you used to achieve your results were ill considered and illogical. Had you kept control of your anger, a better method of thwarting his actions would have presented itself."_

"_Is that so sir?"_

_Taking up his PADD, Spock tapped out a command, and the screen lit up with an image of Ensign Thomas sitting before the Sensor board, with Baeill standing at his right side. She was leaning toward him, with her left hand splayed across the corner of the counsel. _

"_This image was obtained from a security cam. It is part of the footage of your confrontation with Ensign Thomas. During the final ninety- four seconds prior to the point where you assaulted him, your left hand was in this position, less then two centimeters from the manual override."_

_Baeill squinted at the image for several seconds, shaking her head. "Damn it," she muttered, reaching up with her right hand to massage her forehead. "I was so bleedin mad, all I could think about was wiping that smug smile off his face."_

"_Indeed," he intoned, inclining his head._

_To Spock, her reaction was as understandable. The image of another such person clear in his mind, congratulating him on the accomplishment of admission to the Vulcan Science Academy, despite the handicap of a human mother. The tone of superiority had been infuriating, prompting the reply that had changed his life. Few things had given him greater satisfaction then the discomfiture caused by his refusal of admittance into the Vulcan Academy of Science. The occasion had also provided a warning of his need to exert greater control of the fury that lurked within. Vulcan anger was a powerful and potentially self destructive force, which had to be brought to heel if he was to be of service to Starfleet. That this young woman was presently in a similar circumstance was apparent even to him. The question was, would she realize her situation as he had. Steepling his fingers, he fixed her with his unblinking gaze._

"_Regardless of the provocation," he went on smoothly, "as a veteran of the fleet, you were certainly aware of how another such mark upon your official record could result in the termination of your Starfleet career. And yet you physically assaulted Ensign Thomas, which is a far more serious offence than mere insubordination. The logical conclusion would be that you no longer wish to be a member of Starfleet."_

_Baeill took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, which were clasped together on the desk. "The Fleet is all I know sir," she answered quietly. "I don't want to leave it."_

"_Then I would be gratified to hear another explanation for your behavior Ms. Baeill." _

"_I guess I do have a bit of a temper sir," she mumbled, with a shrug of her shoulders._

"_I believe there is a term that would best characterize your assertion. That would be the word understatement."_

_She responded with a brief bark of laughter, followed by a shake of her head. "Sorry sir, but I'm only human. I've always been quick tempered, and I can't see how I'm ever to be rid of it. I'm not even sure if I want to."_

"_Although I have only been on the Valiant a short time, I have noted that the vast majority of my shipmates seem to be well capable of controlling their tempers. Therefore, using your humanity as an excuse is not acceptable."_

"_I don't need an excuse," she hissed, staring straight ahead. "That officer on the Hood, you know they didn't even investigate him. Maybe I shouldn't have laid hands on Mr. Thomas, but he was wrong sir."_

"_I can emphatically state that in both the incidents under discussion your anger is understandable. However, the way in which you choose to express that emotion has no place on a starship."_

"_Why do you even care Lieutenant? You're Vulcan, so you must have a logical reason, but I can't figure it."_

"_The most logical reason of all; self interest. I have observed you to be a highly gifted technician. Your proficiency will allow me to devote more of my time to scientific studies."_

_She nodded and took a deep breath. "And what do I get out of this sir?"_

"_You will be allowed to remain on this ship Petty Officer, while serving under a officer who values a subordinate who speaks her mind, provided she can find a way to manage her temper."_

"_You know, I could get a position with any of the civilian shipping firms on Terra if I wanted one. They'd pay me twice what I make now."_

"_Quite true. However, that has been true for nearly the entire course of your Starfleet career, given your previous experience. One would therefore surmise that such an option would not be your first choice, regardless of the difference in remuneration."_

"_You know sir, it's pretty damned irritating to talk to someone who thinks he has all the answers."_

"_It is an concept that I am acutely familiar with, by way of frequent experience gained through interaction with my father."_

"_Really sir?" She shot back with a grin, "then we have something in common I guess."_

"_I concur. Ms. Baeill, I submit that the alliance I propose will provide mutual benefits beyond what I have outlined."_

"_What kind of benefits do you have in mind sir?" She asked quietly, her expression gone suddenly blank._

"_There is much I have to learn about my shipmates. Specifically, there are times when I am confused about the meaning of their emotions, or even their figures of speech. Your discreet assistance in those and other areas would be invaluable to me." _

_At that point he deliberately paused in an attempt to gage her demeanor, which to his annoyance was almost Vulcan like, with very little in the way of any facial expression, excepting a slight frown. After a long silence he went on._

"_There will be a probationary period of six months. At the end of that interval, if we are both satisfied as to the course of our working relationship, I am prepared to offer you a position as my Chief Petty Officer, pending Captain Pike's approval of course. In addition, there are techniques I can teach you that will be useful in mastering your anger."_

"_Ok," she answered with a sigh, "I can see that. It's just…like I said before, I'm human, not…not like you sir."_

"_Indeed. In turn, I remind you that humans are quite capable of exercising control of their emotions. You may choose to do so or not, but it is a choice Petty Officer."_

"_Alright," she answered decisively, "You've got me sir. I'm all yours."_

"_Excellent. Consider yourself off duty until 0600 hours tomorrow. Please report to me here at that time."_

"_Aye, aye sir." Then Petty Officer Baeill broke into a broad grin and winked at him. Moments later she was gone, leaving him to ponder the meaning of that smile for the rest of the day._

_At the end of his next duty shift he had gone to Pike, requesting that an investigation be conducted concerning Ms. Baeill's treatment while a member of the USS Hood's crew. With a broad smile, Pike informed him that he had already started the paper work for such a procedure. All that was needed was the signature of her immediate superior officer to send it through. As things turned, the sluggish machinery of the Inspector General's office was already grinding away at this particular problem, since the officer in question had recently been discharged from active duty because of sexual harassment against another female crew member. When Baeill expressed her gratitude to him for his intervention on her behalf several weeks later, he demurred that there was no need to thank him, as he was only doing his duty. Baeill just smiled, and told him he had a lot to learn about humans. He was of course well aware of this deficiency. _

_Fortunately for Spock, establishing trust with Aileen Baeill did not require insight into the human psyche. In fact he had already taken the important initial step, by listening to her claim of unjust treatment she had been subjected to on the Hood, and in taking it seriously. The action which cemented her loyalty to him was so fundamental that Spock was not even cognizant of what he had done. He simply never mentioned the incident again. There was never a reminder of what she owed him, nor any indication on his part hat he deserved any thanks at all. As he had told her, he had acted as he had because it was his duty as her commanding officer to do so once he was convinced that she had been treated unjustly. One did not expect credit for such an action, nor would it have been acceptable to trade on Ms. Baeill's gratitude to induce her to better behavior. What she had expected he would not know until much later._

Such was his memory concerning the beginning of a relationship that defined his growth as Starfleet officer. This was where Spock put to good use all of Captain Pike's counsel. That bond of trust he had established with Petty Officer Baeill was the key to building a partnership that made them both better shipmates. She challenged him to find ways to accommodate himself to the emotions that swirled around him, even if he didn't always understand them. He insisted that she could be a leader in her own right, even if it wasn't how she saw herself. Each provided the other with a certainty that what ever the situation, they could rely on the other no matter the situation. After four years, it was the reason why she was able to drag him through the broken corridors of a dying ship so that he could find the way out that saved most of their fellow shipmates. Among the regrets over forsaking duty in space was that he would no longer be privileged to serve with Captain Pike and Chief Floinn. Or with Petty Officer Baeill.

Spock had considered that the five year maiden voyage of the Enterprise would be the last deep space assignment for both Captain Pike and Chief Floinn. Christopher Pike would almost certainly be offered the Admiralty at missions end, and he very much doubted the Chief would be willing to serve under any other officer. As for Baeill, Spock had intended to invite her to continue as a part of his staff for this mission and beyond, and had discussed this with her on a number of occasions. Which was why the thought of informing her of his decision was not a pleasant one. He considered it likely that she would view what he intended as a betrayal. Certainly, Ms. Baeill would be disturbed at the prospect of serving under someone else. Some what to his bewilderment, Spock found himself troubled at the same prospect. Beyond the undeniable fact the he considered her a friend, it seemed to him an injustice to put her in this position. With a whispered sigh, he took one last long look at Ms. Baeill and retreated to his own healing chamber.

Once situated on the bio bed, Spock refrained from entering into the trace so he could further ponder his dilemma. There was an endeavor he could undertake on her behalf, something he had been considering for several years, although he had never actively discussed it with Ms. Baeill. There were several reasons for this, mainly centering around whether she was emotionally prepared to embark on the path that he would suggest. He had thought that several more years of preparation would be needed, however that option was not longer a possibility. Certainly Ms. Baeill had already made considerable progress in the ability to control her anger during the time she had served under him. Granted that the incident of several days ago at the Dockyards was something of a disappointment, but he attributed her behavior to the anguish Aileen felt over the fate of the Valiant.

Indeed, it was her role in saving the vast majority of the crew from death that made this the perfect time for the venture he would propose. Spock did not claim to fully understand the concept of heroics, but he knew that Starfleet placed great value in extending public recognition to those whose actions fell within the boundary of that amorphous notion. Captain Pike had tried to explain it to him once, stating that singling out these so called heroes reminded the ordinary Terran citizen of the vital mission that Starfleet performed. This in turn invariably lead to improved levels of funding. At the time Spock dismissed the whole issue as further evidence of the foibles of human nature. Now he considered this tendency to be an opportunity, one the would provide him with a certain degree of leverage to accomplish his goal. While neither he nor Ms. Baeill desired to be singled out for what they had done, he suspected that their wishes would not be paramount in this matter. If that were indeed the situation that they faced, he would have no compunction in using it the achieve something of lasting value for his friend.

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Writing has been a struggle for me lately. Hopefully I'll get in a groove again. Reviews are a great motivation for me, so go ahead and give me some encouragement. Or if you feel the need, let me know where I'm going wrong. Thanks for reading.**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Misdiagnosis

At first there was only darkness and pain. The last thing she remembers is boarding a shuttle with her aunt and Cadet Uhura that was supposed to take them to Enterprise. Obviously their mission had gone FUBAR, but she had no memory of what had gone wrong. Awareness is intermittent, with no sense of time or location. Gradually the pain faded to a dull ache, and the noise of voices penetrated her muddle, a toneless droning that seemed to be coming to her from a great distance. There was a brief fleeting hope that was soon lost when the sounds faded away along with the pain, leaving her alone in the void with only her fear. She tried to cry out in her desperation to attract notice, but there was naught but silence, no matter her efforts, until at last the note of a solitary voice pierced the darkness. She knew the sound of it well, though she had thought never to hear it again, being that it was the voice of a dead man.

"Do not fear little girl," Sean Baeill crooned softly, just as he had when as a child she'd clutched at him after awaking from a bad dream. "Ye are not alone in this awful place."

"Da!" She exclaimed, startled at the sound of her own voice. "How can ye be here?"

"Because me Ally needed me," came the firm reply.

"Why did ye leave me Da?"

"I did no want to," he answered gently, and she felt his lips whisper across her forehead. "Sure in ye know that."

"I missed you so bad Da."

"Sorry I am to not be there for ye. Tis a sad thing that a man can no live to see his beautiful girl grow up. Glad I am to have this chance to know what a fine young woman ye are."

"Then you'll be leaving me again Da," she heard herself whisper softly.

"No, not at all girl. Tis you who will be leavin me. Tis not your time Ally. You've got a lot of livin yet to do girl. You'd best get to it. "

A light that shone from his countenance pushed away the darkness, revealing his smile. And she thought she would never again be as happy as she was at that moment. Sean Baeill had been a tall gangly man with fiery red hair and a crooked, misshapen nose; the product of too many drunken nights in too many space ports. No one in their right mind would have ever called him a handsome man, except those who had seen him smile. It was a sight Aileen Baeill had missed for nearly twelve years, and it took her breath away to see it now. And then like a wisp of smoke blown by a strong wind the moment was gone, as the image of her father faded from her sight.

"No…please don't go Da!" She cried out, startled by the raw sound of her own anguish, that came out a croaking hiss. There was no reply, not a hint that what had just happened was anything more then a dream.

Aileen understood that she should be grateful, since the only possible way you could talk with the dead was if you became one of them. But it was so hard to be in his presence for a few moments, only to see him snatched away again. Since his disappearance twelve years ago, there had been a hole in her heart that had never completely healed. Now that wound felt very fresh again, and she bitterly cursed whatever dark corner of her mind had dredged this up from the convoluted edges of her psyche. Aileen was so caught up in her own anguish that she didn't notice at first that something fundamental had changed with regard to her situation; the darkness was receding. A pale glow gradually diffused the blackness, like a the proverbial light at the far end of her very dark tunnel. That illumination was her guide she decided, so she focused on going toward it. There was no difference at first, the gleam didn't get any brighter, but at least it was still there. There was no way to tell how much time had past or even if she was actually moving. Then just when it seemed like nothing was going to change; everything did.

She felt a gentle sting on her arm, and within moments the light seemed to rush toward her. It was so radiant that she had to shut her eyes against the glare. A bone deep weariness engulfed her, like an anchor pulling her down toward the oblivion from which she had just emerged, and all she wanted was to fall into it. She sensed movement, and there was a voice calling out, not muted and incomprehensible, but clear and familiar. It was Aunt Muir, reassuring her that she was going to be fine. Aileen opened her eyes despite the brightness, revealing blurred shapes that resembled people. Slowly the figures came into focus as she blinked back tears from the harsh glare. Murnie was on one side of her, holding her left hand. Doctor McCoy was by her right arm, which was encased in a Regen sleeve. Standing together behind her aunt were the slim figures of Commander Spock and Cadet Uhura. Back by the door there was a person she didn't know; a tall, severe, Vulcan woman standing next to Captain Pike.

"Where am I?" She croaked in confusion, unable to place what she was seeing from her memory.

"Soval Medical Center," McCoy answered gently, while staring at the readout on his PADD.

"Tis a Vulcan facility," the Chief added, squeezing her hand. "It was thought best to bring you here for your treatment."

Aileen slowly turned her head until she could see the device that encased her right arm. "Regen," she groaned, slowly shaking her head.

While not exactly an expert on medical matters, Aileen had spent enough time in the Valiant's sick bay to pick up a good grasp of the basics. Regen therapy was used to stimulate the regeneration of nerves that had been too badly damaged to function properly. She also knew that it didn't always work. Three shipmates Aileen knew were confined to planet side duty because of the failure of their Regen therapy. Apparently something in her voice gave away her fear, because McCoy snapped his sensor closed and joined Murnie by the side of her bed.

"So far you're doing fine Ms. Baeill," he told her, in a surprisingly warm voice. "The nerve regeneration and muscle growth are progressing nicely, and ahead of the schedule that I expected. That's the good news."

"And the bad?"

"You've still got a ways to go Petty Officer. We brought you here because the Soval Medical Center equips each of their rooms with gravity generators, which were necessary in order to promote the proper muscle development to match your Hibernian physiology. Right now a similar facility is being prepared at Starfleet Medical. Until it's ready, you get to stay here. Then the real fun begins, your rehab."

"I'm grateful for your care of me Doctor," Baeill answered after a jaw cracking yawn. "I'm sure I'll have a lot of questions for you, as soon as I'm able to think straight. But right now I only need an answer to one. How did this happen to me?"

"I wish I could tell Petty Officer, but I have no idea, other then what my medical sensor tells me. Which is that your injuries were caused by electrical shock."

"A high energy plasma discharge, to be precise," Spock offered, speaking for the first time.

"Thank you for that Commander," Baeill growled in frustration, "but that's not very informative. So if you cannot tell me the how, I'm guessing that you'll not tell me the why either."

"I'd sure like to hear that one," McCoy added, turning around to glare at Spock.

"Not your business Doctor," Pike announced, walking over to stand by McCoy. Then he looked down at Baeill and shrugged. "I'm sorry Aileen. While you have the right to know, this isn't the time or place. I promise you'll get the full story when you're debriefed. Can you wait until then?"

"I guess I'll have to sir," she muttered, laying back in the bed with a sigh. "Besides, never did see the point of a bedtime story, since I hardly ever stay awake long enough to hear the end of it." Then she turned her attention to Spock. "I hope I didn't screw things up too much sir."

"Indeed not Petty Officer. I this case, the fault lies entirely with me."

"There you go again," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Tell me sir, is it just you, or do all Vulcans jump at the chance to take the blame when something goes wrong?"

Spock tried to think of an appropriate answer, but it quickly became evident that it was not necessary, since Ms. Baeill was no longer awake. So he remained silent while McCoy checked his PADD, then prepared a hypo and applied it the his patients neck.

"Is that normal McCoy?" Pikes asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"You mean for a woman who was nearly electrocuted, and then placed in a medical coma for nearly four days? Probably."

"Probably isn't the word I want to hear Doctor."

"Sorry Captain," McCoy shot back, "but I'm a doctor, not a psychic."

"Surely Captain Pike, you understand that any medical evaluation is to some degree based on probabilities?" T'Svul inquired, in a dead flat tone.

"I've had enough experience with Doctors to know that they don't like being pinned down ma'am. All I want from Doctor McCoy is his professional opinion concerning my friend's outcome, without the commentary. Understood McCoy?"

"Regen is damned unpredictable Captain, so I can't give you a timetable for her recovery, but she's already over the worst of it."

"Then why is she unable to stay awake Doctor?" Floinn asked in concern. "After all, the girl has been sleeping ever since she was hurt."

"Being in a medical coma is not the same thing as sleep," McCoy answered quietly. "Between the therapy and her injuries, her body is using a lot of energy. She's going to be plenty tired for the next few days."

"Do ye have any need to remain Doctor?" When McCoy shook his head, she turned to address Pike. "If my niece is going to sleep the time away, I suggest we leave her to a well deserved rest Captain."

"Agreed Chief. Healer T'Svul, you have our sincere thanks for all that you have done for our friend."

"No expressions of gratitude are necessary Captain Pike. We are here to serve."

As they filed out of the room Uhura stopped in front of the tall austere woman and addressed her in Vulcan. "Might one inquire as to the most convent time in which I may return to visit the patient esteemed Healer?"

There was of course no change in expression, other then perhaps a slight displacement of an elegant eyebrow. "The Soval institute is open to visitation from 0800 to 2000 hours Cadet Uhura. Consult with Doctor McCoy as to when a visit would be appropriate."

As soon as the door to the healing chamber slid shut, Chief Floinn twisted her neck from left to right and back again, producing an audible crack, followed by a loud sigh. "I had nearly forgotten what the real pull of gravity feels like," she muttered, as they made their way across the empty lobby.

"Indeed Chief," Spock stated, striding with a slight spring to his step, 'I found the sensation to be invigorating."

"You would," McCoy grumbled, stretching out his back.

There was a conveyance for hire waiting in the street by the entrance, a mag-lev car that wasn't really large enough to accommodate them all. Fortunately, the Chief's apartment wasn't more then a mile away, and once she was gone, Uhura was able to put a few inches of space between her and McCoy's sharp right elbow. The silence that descended on the tiny cabin had more to do with exhaustion then anything else she decided, at least as far as the humans were concerned. Both McCoy and Pike had the look of men who needed sleep badly, and she hadn't had more then four hours rest at a stretch since she'd returned from Enterprise. Spock on the other hand looked well rested, impeccably dressed in civvies, which consisted of a long deep brown tunic over a pair of gray pants and soft black boots. He looks damned fine she mused, then mentally slapped herself for noticing, which lead her to realize something she should have observed the moment she had her first good look at him standing next to Petty Officer Baeill when they'd entered her room.

"You were shot," she said, in a weak voice, which still caused the three men to turn their attention on her, like she'd committed some kind of faux pas by stating the obvious.

"Yeah," McCoy responded after a few seconds, sounding slightly surprised. "What about that Spock?"

"There is no need for concern, as the wound was relatively superficial," Spock responded, looking away.

"That's not what the trauma team that brought you in to Starfleet Medical told me. They were pretty sure that you'd need Regen, just like Petty Officer Baeill. So why don't you…"

"Doctor McCoy," Spock interrupted firmly, "as I stated on a prior occasion, you are not my personal physician."

"Cut the crap Spock. I'd bet a case of Romulan ale you don't have a personal physician."

"What's your point McCoy?" Pike demanded in an exasperated tone of voice.

"You know Spock a lot better then I do Captain, so let me ask you this. Do you trust that he's going to be completely forthcoming when it comes to his health?"

"He does have a point Spock," the older man admitted reluctantly.

"I can assure you sir, that Healer T'Svul will attest that I am completely fit for duty."

"Does that satisfy you McCoy?"

"No it doesn't Captain. Not unless I missed the part where the lady has been certified by the Fleet Medical Board."

There was a long silence before Pike spoke. "Just what the hell are you up to Cadet?"

"I'm just trying to follow the regulations sir," McCoy countered with a lazy smile. "And one of those states that any Starfleet personnel who are injured must be certified as fit by a Starfleet certified physician before they are allowed to return to active duty."

"Please Len," Uhura said with a shake of her head, "I can't believe I'm hearing you quote regulations."

"I also find this concern for either regulations or the state of my health to be unconvincing."

"Well you're right about one thing Spock, this isn't about you at all. I don't give a damn about your health. Why should I, when you obviously don't?"

"You need to read up on some of the other regs McCoy," Pike barked. "Like the ones about treating senior officers with respect at all times. Now either you tell me what this is all about or start practicing the art of keeping your mouth shut."

"I'll be glad to sir," he snapped, then turned his gaze on Spock. "I might not be your physician Commander, but I do happen to be Ms. Baeill's, and I don't seem to remember any request from you to return her to active duty."

"There was no need Doctor. The task that she was to undertake was not considered hazardous."

"You mean that **you **didn't think it was hazardous. Isn't that right Spock?"

"Correct Doctor. In my estimation, the probability of a dangerous event was extremely low."

"I really don't care how safe you thought it was. You had no right to expose her to any kind of risk until I signed off on it."

"A modicum of risk is the ever present reality of serving in Starfleet. It is a reality that Petty Officer Baeill is well aware of, and excepts."

"Don't you dare try to pass this one off on her mister," McCoy snarled.

Pike saw his friend's posture go rigid, his head turning to stare at the other man through dark unblinking eyes. For a moment he didn't know what would happen, then the Commander averted his gaze, and in the time it took him to take a deep breath, he was Spock again. Pike let out a long breath of his own, and Spock turned his head in his direction, offering a slight nod. Pike's gaze turned first to McCoy, who seemed oblivious to what had just happened. Cadet Uhura was another matter. She was staring at the Vulcan with wide eyes, and almost jumped when Spock finally responded to McCoy's challenge in a tight, but controlled voice.

"On the contrary Doctor, I accept full responsibility for what occurred to Petty Officer Baeill. What is more, I have taken concrete steps to insure that it will never again be repeated."

"Sorry Commander," McCoy answered softly, "but I have a hard time believing you."

"That's enough McCoy," Pike snapped, his face flushed with anger. "If you think I'm going to sit by while you insult Commander Spock, you've got another thing coming."

"Captain, I should like to hear the Doctor's rational," Spock requested in a clipped tone. "Assuming of course, that it is based on something other then the seemingly endless fount of emotional verbiage that he seems so fond of spouting."

"Excuse me for being human Commander," McCoy retorted stiffly. "Besides, this has nothing to do with how I feel about anything. It's all a matter of statistical analysis, which is something I'm pretty sure you appreciate."

"Interesting. Please specify."

"According to Petty Officer Baeill's medical record, she had a nearly normal incidence of sustaining injuries serious enough to require medical attention until she shipped out on the Valiant. Once she was placed under your authority, that injury rate jumped into the top percentile."

"And what conclusions did you draw from this exhaustive study of Ms Baeill's medical records?"

"One of the ideas they drill into our heads at the Academy is that as officers we are responsible for the welfare of those who serve under us," McCoy answered in a level voice. "This tells be that you're not doing your job when it comes to looking out for Aileen Baeill. In fact, I think it's unsafe for her to continue under your command."

"Doctor McCoy, I find myself considerably disturbed at the notion that you could presume to judge my performance as an officer on the basis of the information that is available to you, especially considering your lack of knowledge concerning the realities of Starship operations."

"Ok…you're the expert Commander. Go head then and educate me about why this isn't your fault."

"I think not Doctor. I am under no obligation to explain myself to you, nor am I eager to elucidate the foibles of attempting to draw conclusions from discrete, isolated points of data to someone who should know better."

"You're right Spock, you don't have any kind of obligation to me. If you want to discount what I just said, there isn't a hell of a lot I can do about it. But this isn't about me, it's about Petty Officer Baeill, and I do think you do have an obligation to her."

"More then you could ever know Doctor," the Vulcan stated softly, in a tone of voice that surprised Uhura. "It is the one source of regret concerning the decision that I have made, which will no longer allow me to serve as Ms. Baeill's commanding officer."

"So your going to have her transferred." McCoy observed, with a tone of voice that conveyed a hint of satisfaction.

"Negative Doctor," Spock replied, with a raised eyebrow. "Petty Officer Baeill has spent the last 9.72 years of her life in Starfleet. I find your insistence on her need for protection from the dangers of her chosen career to be both arrogant and condescending." Then he reached out to tap the mag-lev's interface display with his right hand. There was a slight sideways jolt as the vehicle abruptly exited the traffic stream and settled it self hard by the pedestrian walk way. The door swung up and Spock moved quickly through the opening. Pike was the first to recover from his surprise.

"Spock…where are you going?" He asked, glancing out the open door to get his bearings. They were in a familiar neighborhood of bars, small specialty shops, and restaurants only a few blocks from the Academy's main gate.

"Do not concern yourself Captain. I am merely in need of a constitutional."

"Hold on a minute Spock," McCoy grumbled, "I want an answer…ahh…damn it Uhura, what was that for?" he groaned, rubbing the now tender flesh of his right shoulder where she had just punched him."

"It's the only way I could think to get you to shut up Len."

"You have my gratitude Ms Uhura," Spock remarked, as he finished folding himself out of the cab.

"You're going give up Enterprise, aren't you?" Uhura called out as he began to move away from the vehicle.

Spock stopped, but didn't turn around. "Not precisely," he answered after a long silence. "I have requested to be permanently removed from active duty. I have no intention of serving on a starship in any capacity."

She watched him go, too shocked to call out the one question she wanted the answer to. Why? She felt McCoy moving and turned on him, intending to hit him again if he tried to speak, but Pike's voice boomed out instead.

"I don't want to hear a word out of you McCoy."

Uhura didn't think it was the Captain's command, or even the tone of his voice that caused McCoy to close his mouth. It was the expression on Pike's face, a mixture of cold fury and pain that stopped him, as he acknowledged the other man's demand with a slight nod. Uhura had no wish to break the tense silence, so nothing was said until the cab settled to a stop by the Academy gate. After they extracted themselves from the mag-lev, McCoy started to walk away, but Pike barked out a command to stop. When the older man moved toward the Doctor, Uhura followed, concerned over what would happen. Pike turned at her approach and offered her a slight smile.

"Relax Cadet. I'm not going to punch out your friend." When he focused his attention back on McCoy, it was with an expression set in stone. "My office, 0700 tomorrow."

Then he turned on his heal, and moved away at a brisk pace. McCoy looked like he wanted to say something, so she waved a hand to get his attention, vigorously shaking her head. Then she hurried to catch up with Pike. She settled in on his right shoulder, matching his rapid pace. After maybe a minute of silence, he glanced at her and shrugged.

"Sorry Cadet, would you like an escort to your dorm?"

Not really, but it was the best reason she could come up with to keep the man from splitting up with her, so she said yes.

"Which one?

"Sato Commons sir."

Chuckling, he steered them both to the left, cutting across a broad swath of green, to pick up the walking path to her dorm.

"I was in April Commons, right next store. One of my best friends was in Sato, so I spent a lot of time there."

"McCoy lives in April, along with Kirk."

"I know," he answered in a flat voice.

They continued on in silence, with the Captain walking slightly in front of Uhura in the cool clear night, striding along with an easy grace that exuded self confidence. It was that spring he had, the slight bounce he put into each step he took despite the obvious exhaustion she'd seen written on his face earlier. Uhura didn't know if it was real, or if Captain Pike was just a good actor. It didn't really matter if she knew she decided, as long as Pike did. After maybe three minutes of silence, she nearly jumped at the abrupt sound of his voice.

"So what do you want to ask me Cadet?"

"Sir?"

"Come on Ms. Uhura. You don't strike me as the kind of woman who usually needs an escort."

She frowned and took a deep breath. "Sir…it's about Len…he's not normally such a…"

"…infuriating asshole?"

"Uh…Yeah. Though I was thinking more along the lines of dumb ass sir."

"Another excellent description Cadet."

"Look sir….I know Len can be difficult….and I know he was way out of line to say what he did to Commander Spock…"

"…actually he wasn't. It was more of the way he said it that pissed me off Ms. Uhura," Pike cut in with a shake of his head.

"…and I'm sure that he…pardon me sir?"

"As Ms. Baeill's physician, he has a duty to stand up for his patient if he thinks her health is being compromised due to the orders or actions of a superior officer."

"But sir," she protested, "that wasn't what happened. Mr. Spock didn't even know that Doctor Daystrom was on board Enterprise."

"I know that and so do you Cadet. Unfortunately, we can't tell McCoy about any of those pesky details. Now I think he jumped the gun back there, and I'm going to let him know that tomorrow. He didn't have enough information to confront Spock like he did."

"I know sir. I keep telling him to be a little less confrontational, but Len is a pretty passionate guy."

"Actually, you shouldn't tell him that. It's a very useful quality, especially for a ships Doctor. Or for any crew member for that matter."

"I'm sorry sir, what did you just say?"

"I think you heard me the first time Cadet," he answered with a grin.

"I don't get it sir. Wouldn't that be insubordination?"

"It could be. A lot depends on the Captain. I know some who don't like to be contradicted, and will regard anyone who deviates from their orders to be insubordinate. If you ever end up with anyone like that as your commanding officer, I strongly suggest you transfer out at the first opportunity."

"I guess I'm still a little confused Captain. What about what I did on Enterprise?"

"Not a good example Cadet. Who is going to know better what to do in a situation like that, you or I?"

"You are sir," she answered, with a nod.

"Exactly. Let me give a better one. Say you're my communications officer, and we receive a Klingon transmission. Now the way I understand it, computer translation of Klingonese is iffy at best."

"That's right sir. Too much inflection in the language."

"Alright. So you tell me what it means in your professional opinion, but I disagree. Let's say I like the computer's translation better."

"Well sir," she answered with a sly smile, "maybe you're fluent in Klingonese."

"Come on Cadet," he chided, "you can do better then that."

"Well…if you believed that ships computer could do better then me, then I'd have to say that you pretty much were a dumb ass…sir"

"And you'd be right. If one of my officers believes that they are right about a situation that effects the safety of the ship or the well being of the crew, I expect them to insist on being heard."

"Like Len did?"

Pike nodded. "That's right. Next to being an excellent Doctor, the most important quality I look for in my Chief Medical Officer is the willingness to confront me regarding the health of the crew. That's more difficult to find then you might imagine."

"Well that's not too surprising sir. Most people don't like confrontations, especially with their boss."

"Which is why it's so important for a Captain to find people that will tell him things he doesn't want to hear. Obviously your friend is one of those people. McCoy's problem is that he likes to be confrontational even when it's not necessary."

They lapsed into silence as they turned up the walkway that lead to Sato Commons. At the entrance Pike held her gaze for a long moment and smiled. "Sorry to bend your ear so much Cadet, but talking about stuff is how I work things out in my head."

He turned to go, and when she saw he still had that bounce to his stride, she decided to ask him about the thing she'd wanted to know all along. "Why did he do it sir?"

He stopped and slowly turned, looking at her for a long time. "You mean Spock?" She nodded, and there was another long silence before he spoke. "That's a hard question to answer Cadet. I'm not sure I can tell you why. Or that I should."

"It just…I saw how much Chief Floinn and Petty Officer Baeill respected him," she stammered, her shoulders slumped. "They even like him."

"So do I Cadet," Pike answered with a nod. "I consider Spock to be one of my closest friends."

"Sir, I'm sure Petty Officer Baeill doesn't hold him responsible for what happened, so why does he think he has to do this?"

"Sorry Cadet, but you've got it all wrong." Pike could see from the expression on her face that he'd just confused the girl. "This has nothing to do with what happened on Enterprise," he explained as he turned to walk away. "Nothing at all."

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Hopefully I can get back on the writing track now. Any and all feedback is appreciated, so please drop me a review.**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Changing Course

What reason could Spock have for doing this? Why was he throwing away something he had worked so hard for? Captain Pike's demeanor made it quite clear to Uhura that he didn't agree with Spock's decision, which meant that the Vulcan was tuning his back on a chance to be on Enterprise. How could he do that? She couldn't get those questions out of her head. After nearly an hour of twisting and turning in her narrow bed, Uhura gave up on the possibility of sleep. Damned Vulcans and their damned logic. It was a given that whatever motive Commander Spock had for what he was doing, he would consider it to be logical. Uhura's problem was that this really didn't help her much. She knew enough about Vulcan cultural norms to realize that their logic was a malleable philosophy that could be beaten into any shape that was called for. In this case, a shield to obscure whatever personal reason was behind Commander Spock's decision. Which highlighted her other difficulty; Uhura didn't really know him well enough to even begin to guess what that could be. None of the conversations they'd had during the frantic search for M-5 had been all that revealing. With a sigh over the fact that she was losing another night of sleep, Uhura sat down at her comm and logged on to the Starfleet network.

Two hours later she sat back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her chest. It was either that or put a fist through the display. While there were quite a few links for Commander Spock on the Starfleet data base, they were devoid of personal information. The vast majority were articles that Spock had written for dozens of different academic journals on subjects that ranged from harnessing the output of faster then light neutrinos to establish communication with civilizations that might inhabit the galactic core (she'd bookmarked that one for further study), to the best training techniques to housebreak a sehlat. He was a surprisingly good writer. Even the article on subspace quantum mechanics was readable, if you skipped the math.

When she looked at his service record, Uhura was amazed to discover that Spock had graduated from the Academy only five years ago. At the age of twenty-six, he was the youngest Commander in Starfleet by five years, and the youngest full professor at the Academy. That appointment had come through only two days ago. The only other posting listed was for the USS Valiant. Damn it, how could she have missed something so obvious? That night of their first meeting, Gaila had told her right before Uhura had marched off to confront him that Spock had served on the Valiant. At the time she hadn't given it a second thought. It wasn't until a few days later that she finally caught up with rumors of an unfortunate accident in space. In the absence of hard facts, people went ahead and made up their own stories, which ranged from collisions with mysterious alien vessels to a disastrous encounter with a micro black hole. The only thing that the grapevine was in agreement about was whatever happened had been bad. A quick search on her PADD revealed nothing except a brief communiqué from Starfleet Operations to the effect that the Valiant had suffered damage during routine operations in the Rigel sector. There was no mention of casualties. Which probably meant that there were a lot of them. With a growl of frustration she had scrolled through the rest of the record. Besides his name, identity holo, along with his height, age, and planet of birth, everything else was a blank. No information about his clan, parents, or any record of his education before arriving on Terra. An official notification at the bottom of the page announced that all personal information that would normally be displayed was under a privacy seal.

What was Commander Spock trying to hide and why? While everything she couldn't see here was listed on his official Starfleet personnel jacket, that really didn't help her since she couldn't access those records. Fortunately for Uhura, there was an alternative. Anything she wanted to know about Spock should be available in the labyrinth of connected networks that jumbled together all the media created content available in the Federation. The problem was that finding it would take both time and a skill with ferreting out information that she didn't possess. Fortunately Uhura knew someone who could. Now she just had to wait for Gaila to get back from whoever it was she was doing tonight.

As it turned out, it was nearly four hours before Gaila shuffled through to door. Most of Uhura's time was spent struggling to stay awake while conjugating theoretical verb forms for a language that was know only through corrupted transmissions intercepted by sub-space relay stations on the edge of a molecular cloud known as the Abyss. The messages were audio only, consisting of sharp hissing sounds along with infrequent growls and deep, guttural yowls. The first thing that came to mind when she heard it was an angry cat. A team of Andorian philologists had transliterated the sounds into their own language as well as Standard, but only as a purely academic exercise.

The size of the sample was too small to attempt any meaningful translation work. At least that was what Professor Weir had told her. The tone of the other woman's voice verged in the playful, but Uhura was well aware of the challenge it implied. Let's see what you can do with this wunderkind. Of course she agreed to have a go at it, relishing the opportunity to work with Commodore Weir, who until her retirement from active duty last year had been second in command of Starfleet Signals Corps. It didn't take long for Uhura to conclude that she should have kept her mouth shut. There just wasn't enough materiel to work with, and imitating the sounds gave her a sore throat. On the plus side, listening to the strange vocalizations while trying to imitate them with human vocal equipment not designed for that purpose was a great recipe for staying awake. She was replaying a particularly painful sequence that featured what sounded like a cat barfing when the door slid open to reveal her friend.

"Where have you been Gaila?" She demanded, after clearing her throat for nearly half a minute.

"Studying," the Orion woman answered in a tired voice.

"Gaila…are you feeling ok?

"Shut it Ny. I study, just not as obsessively as…Great Mother, are you listening to that horrible noise again?"

"Sorry," Uhura muttered, as she stabbed the panel of her comm to cut off a high pitched yowl.

"Why are you even up Ny? You told me that you were going to get to bed early tonight," Gaila remarked, as she started to shed her coat and boots. "That's why I went to the library, so you could sleep, not listen to cats screeching."

"They're not cats," Uhura insisted.

"How do you know?" Gaila shot back, in a tone was vaguely accusatory.

"None of the kitties I know spend much time sending sub space transmissions."

"Whatever," Gaila muttered, kicking her boots, into the furthest corner of the room.

A stunned Uhura watched her friend slowly walk across the room and sag into her bed, pulling the blanket up to her chest like a shield. Something was obviously off about Gaila, and it wasn't just the hour of the night or the time she'd spent cramming at the library. She'd seen the Orion more animated after a thirty hour frat party sandwiched between two all nighters. There was an exuberance in the way Gaila threw herself into each day that made Uhura envious. Sometimes it seemed that life was a constant adventure to the Orion, whether it was her latest computer simulation or her most recent horizontal interaction with an academy classmate. In fact the only things that Gaila took seriously were her classes and sex. And Uhura was pretty sure that it was the later obsession that was responsible for her present disposition. When it came to sex, the concepts of no and later simply weren't on her radar, something that had gotten her into trouble more then once, especially in her first year. Since then her friend had tried to be more sensitive, but there was still the occasional faux pas. She was betting that was the source of her current state of mind. The question was, did Uhura even want to know? She glanced at the monitor on her desk, which was still displaying Commander Spock's mostly blank personal information page. If she wanted some answers, she was going to have to get Gaila out of her funk.

"Gaila, I'm sorry about the cats. Now would you please tell me what's bothering you?"

"I don't want to talk about," the Orion girl whispered, pulling the blanket over her head.

Ok that was weird. Gaila was usually eager to remonstrate against the idiocies of what she considered Terran prudery when her libido ran up against the inhibitions of her fellow cadets. The only time she remembered the Orion so subdued was that time she arrested for…oh shit!

"You didn't…Gaila, you promised that you wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't what?" The faint voice called out.

"Damn it, would you come out from under that blanket!"

"Fine," she shot back, casting the flannel covering away. "And no, I'm not in trouble for fucking in public again."

"Gaila…"

"What? You Terrans are such hypocrites Ny. You talk about sex all the time, but when it comes to the actual fucking, you act like it's something you should feel bad about."

"I know…we're all perverts for humping in private."

"Is that sarcasm again?"

"Sorry…I shouldn't have brought it up. You've actually been pretty good about trying to understand our silly cultural traditions when it comes to sex."

There was a long silence, and to Uhura it almost looked like her friend was about to cry, something she'd never seen the Orion woman do before. "Let's start over. I want to help girl, but I can't if you won't let me in."

Another long silence followed, then Gaila slowly pushed herself up until she was sitting on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped around her knees. "My pheromone suppressor doesn't seem to be functioning properly," she mumbled.

"Oh God," Uhura muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Gaila, you should have said something."

"Right," the Orion answered with a nervous laugh. "Like I'm going to give them an excuse to confine me to a quarantine chamber. Besides, it only happens when I'm having sex."

"Ok…so that's how often?"

"Not at all lately," Gaila responded miserably. "I thought about trying to up the dose, but then I'd have to explain why I need more of the drug. It's been two weeks since I've fucked anyone! What am I going to do?"

There was a long silence while Uhura worked out how to express what had immediately popped into her head. "Gaila…couldn't you just take care of yourself for a while…until this gets figured out."

"Come on Ny," the other woman said, breaking into a wide smile, "you can say it. It's just three little syllables."

"Masturbate! There, are you happy?"

"Happier then I was two minutes ago, which isn't saying much. And yes, I could get myself off, but that little pheromone problem applies whether I'm fucking myself or someone else."

"You really like that word don't you?"

"Totally. It's the greatest contribution to Federation linguistics that Terra has ever made."

"I'm so proud."

"You should be."

"Exactly how big a problem is this? I've lived with you long enough to know you don't need to have sex all the time…right?"

"If you're asking me whether a lack orgasms are fatal to Orions, the answer is no," she muttered, wringing her hands. "But it's…it's unnatural, and it makes me irritable, which is so not a good thing." Reaching into her backpack, Gaila pulled out a PADD. At least Uhura thought that's what it was supposed to be. Now it was just a twisted piece of metal and plastic.

"What happened?"

"Like I said, when Orions don't get enough, we tend to be irritable. I guess I got a little carried away when the message came through from those celibates at Computer Sciences denying my request for core time. I don't think I'm going to be able to control myself when the next freshman asks me if my skin is really green."

"Gaila…you need to do something about this," Uhura responded, alarmed at the realization that most firsties were not as durable as a PADD. "Why don't you talk to Len."

"No way Ny," her room mate answered with a vigorous shake of her head. "Next to you, he's the best friend I have here, and I don't want to screw that up."

"I don't get it girl. Why would Len helping you mess up your friendship?"

"Because he's Lenny," Gaila shot back, in a high pitched voice. "You know, romantic, fair damsels can do no wrong Lenny. If we started fucking, he'd want to get all monogamous on me."

"What? No Gaila! What I was suggesting was that Len could help you medically."

"Still not a good idea. Lenny could get into trouble if he got caught tampering with my suppressor. Besides, there was someone else I was thinking about before my pheromones started going off, a guy who knows had he's doing when it comes to sex. Which by the way is a hard to find when it comes to Terran males."

"Oh my God…it's Kirk, isn't it?"

"What's wrong with Jimmy? He's very mature for a Terran."

"Mature? The only thing about a woman that interests him is how quickly he can get her into bed."

"Hello…Orion remember. Since we both care about the same thing, I think Kirk would be perfect. Like you said, he's someone who isn't going to get all emotional over having sex with me. The only problem is that he's human. Once my pheromones kicked in, he'd do anything I wanted. I don't want that Ny."

"Well you're going to have to think about what you do want Gaila. And please don't start talking any nonsense about dropping out of the Academy. I know how hard you worked to get here."

"I don't want to leave," Gaila stated in a quiet voice. "I just don't see how that's going to be possible to stay. If I report this, then any chance I having of getting into space is gone for good. No Captain is going to take a chance on someone who could turn half of their crew into mindless sex drones."

That was a good point. If they went to Starfleet Medical, the doctors would have to report what happened. Even if the drug could be tweaked to make it effective again, there was the undeniable fact that if it happened once, it could happen again. Not only would her friend be barred from service on a Starship, there was a good chance she'd be removed from the Academy as well. So they were going to have to choose who they approached very carefully. The first person Uhura thought about was Pike. But as Provost of the Academy, Pike had a duty to all the Cadets, something that would almost certainly mean a quarantine order for her friend, no matter how much he might want to help her. They would have to tell him eventually, or rather someone would. Gaila needed someone to speak for her, a person that Captain Pike would listen to. Who that should be was suddenly obvious to her. Now she just had to get her friend to agree.

The argument that ensued became heated at times. Gaila was certain that if she reported her problem, not only would Starfleet bar her permanently from space service, there was also a good chance she'd be deported back to Orion. Uhura tried to convince her friend that it was batter if she revealed her problem voluntarily, rather then wait until the inevitable discovery. Spock was someone who could help she insisted, to which Gaila bitterly responded that she didn't think it would be a good idea to involve a Vulcan in a rules violation, especially one that concerned sex. Uhura was about to argue that Spock wasn't a typical Vulcan when Gaila's comm chimed. Before she could tell her friend to just leave it, Gaila was stalking to her desk and flicked her display to life. A long silence follow and when the Orion woman tuned to face, there was an expression of shock on her face.

"It's Commander Spock…he wants to see me in his office at 0900."

"Does the message say why?"

"No," Gaila answered in a small voice, "but there's only one reason I can think of…he knows Ny…he knows."

* * *

The official office of the Academy Commandant was a huge wood and metal encrusted void that featured a high ceiling and a glass wall facing San Francisco Bay. One look was enough to convince Pike that having a work space larger then the Duchy of Grand Fenwick wasn't going to work for Richard Barnett. Within forty-eight hours a storage room two doors down was commandeered. It was furnished with an old fashioned wooden desk and comfortable chairs, the walls covered by pictures of Barnett's family and the ships he'd served on. While the Admiral's choice of workspace displayed a Spartan ascetic that any proper Vulcan would approve of, Pike still missed the window. In his opinion, being alone on the water was the next best thing to sailing through the ocean of darkness between the stars. With a nod to Barnett's assistant, he walked through the open door. Barnett was lying on a sofa with a PADD in his right hand.

"You're late Pike," he groused, swinging his legs off the couch and striding over to his desk.

"Sorry sir," Pike answered with a shrug. "Had another damned committee meeting that ran too long."

"What was it this time?"

"The Faculty Senate curriculum committee," Pike muttered around a huge yawn.

"How bad was it?"

"Better then the last meeting. This time I brought doughnuts."

"That's an unfair tactical advantage Chris," the Admiral shot back with a chuckle.

"I'll take any edge that I can get sir," Pike responded with a grin.

Shaking his head, Barnett poured them each a mug of coffee from a battered metal carafe. Then he motioned for Pike to sit at one of the three chairs arranged around a small, circular table. Once they'd both settled in and drained a good bit of java, Barnett asked the other man what this meeting was about.

"The usual sir. About eighty percent concerns over their prerogatives. The rest was a very long winded speech by Professor Drexler over the need to maintain the academic excellence of the Academy."

"Christ they do love to talk," Barnett remarked, after pouring more coffee. "Do they know this institution is about training officers for duty with the fleet?" Springing from his chair, Barnett quickly walked back to his desk, snatching a PADD from a large stack on the left side.

"This report just came down from Fleet HQ. It's a compilation of first year evals for newly commissioned Academy graduates. The ratings have been going down for the last four years Chris."

"Actually it's worse then that sir. In the three years prior to the period in your report, evaluation ratings were stagnate."

"Two years after the so called reforms came on line," Barnett growled, peering down at the device in his hand. Then his head rose slowly until he was looking at Pike. "How the hell did you get that information?"

"I had Spock put it together for me this morning Admiral."

"It took me three days to pry this out of HQ," Barnett grumbled, waving his PADD at Pike. "How did Spock…"

"You don't want to know sir," Pike cut in with a shake of his head. "Besides, to the civilian faculty, these numbers aren't really relevant."

"You're going to have to explain that to me Captain."

"They would say that they were brought in to turn Starfleet Academy into a first class academic institution. That's what the reforms were all about. And as far as that goes, they certainly succeeded. The Academy is now one of the highest ranked centers of learning in the Federation."

"That's just great," Barnett sneered, tossing the PADD back on the desk. "So we're sending out Cadets who are very well educated, but not up for the job they're supposed to be doing. Am I supposed to be happy with this?"

"Of course not sir. No one is."

"Our civilian instructors don't seem to mind," Barnett responded through clenched teeth.

"Actually sir, I've gotten feed back from quite a few faculty members who understand our problem. Of course a lot of them of are Fleet, but the younger civilian instructors are concerned as well."

"So you think they'll go along with the changes we need to impose?"

"Impose? No, but they will vote for some of what we want sir."

"Damn it, I am not going to compromise on this. We're going back to the basics Chris, just like we discussed earlier. I want more Starfleet officers teaching here, and more training of our Cadets for the duties they are expected to perform for the fleet."

"Sir, if you push this through without a faculty vote we'll lose half of our teaching staff. There just aren't enough qualified officers to make up that kind of deficit."

"Then the hell with them! If fixing this institution means our damned ranking takes a hit, then I don't mind that one bit. It's time we got back to doing what this place is supposed to be about; training officers for a career in Starfleet."

They'd had this discussion before, and it always ended the same way, with Barnett struggling to control his anger at the necessity of striking an agreement with the Academy's teaching staff. While technically he had the authority as Commandant of the Academy to impose the changes he wanted, he didn't have any way of stopping the exodus of civilian professors that such an action would cause. Not to mention the ugly reaction that was sure to follow from politicians who had supported the push for transforming the Academy into a top tier university. As things stood, there was a good chance that any unilateral measures the Admiral took would end up doing more harm then good to the cause of reform. Barnett understood this, but it was still hard for him to swallow. While Pike was sympathetic to his superior's feelings on the matter, he was tired of rehashing this particular subject.

"If that's what you want Admiral, I'll support you all the way. But first I want to know how getting into a pissing match we can't win is going to help our Cadets? Because they're the ones who are going to end up as collateral damage in this fight."

At first Pike thought that maybe he'd gone a little too far. The look that Barnett shot him would have peeled the paint off a starship bulkhead. Then instead of yelling and screaming, the other man started to laugh, gesturing in Pike's direction while almost doubled over. Deciding that discretion was his best option, Pike quietly waited until the admiral was able to speak.

"Damn…," Barnett finally sputtered, wiping his eyes, "you should have seen the expression on your face Chris." There was another pause while he cleared his throat. "I guess I've been a right bastard to be around the last few days. Sorry about that."

"You probably didn't imagine how complicated this would be sir."

"You know it's a funny thing; when Nogura asked me to do this, he gave me the impression that I'd have a free hand to make any changes I thought were necessary to get the Academy back on track."

"But he didn't actually say that to you, did he sir?" Pike asked, stifling a chuckle.

"No he didn't," Barnett snapped, slapping a hand down on the table. "Damn it Pike, if I'd known about all the politics that were involved here, I would have told him no."

"Which is exactly why he didn't say anything about it. He needs you here sir, and he knew that once you had accepted the job, there was no way you'd quit."

"Well he's right about that," Barnett growled. "Which doesn't leave me with much leverage when it comes to dealing with the faculty."

"Frankly Admiral, I'm more interested in what we can do right now. We're nearly two weeks into the spring semester, which means we really can't make any policy changes until the new academic year at the earliest."

"That sounds a hell of a lot like giving up to me."

"Not at all sir. It's just that I'm in a hurry to shake things up, and I don't think we need to change what our professor's teach in their classes to do it."

Barnett took a deep breath and nodded. "Go head, I'm listening."

"We know what's gone wrong here Admiral. Our kids are a lot better educated then either you or I were when it comes to academics. They know their fields of study thoroughly, and as far as I'm concerned, that's a good thing. What they aren't learning very well is how to lead people, and how to work as a team, the things that make a good officer. I have some ideas on how we can attack those problems."

For now he went on the explain, the best they could do was provide more opportunities for the cadets to be exposed to real world experience. They would bring that experience in from the fleet. Veteran officers and non comms would staff the Academy simulators, which would be reprogrammed with an eye toward achieving a more realistic experience. They would also form the core of new technical training programs to ensure that the Cadets had a better working knowledge of the technology that they would depend on to keep them and their shipmates alive in space. Discussion groups and team exercises would also become part of the cadets regular routine, along with exposure to real world situations faced by Starfleet personal via the recordings of actual events they experienced.

"I assume that you'll ask Commander Spock to ramrod the simulation work," Barnett stated after Pike finished.

"I already have," Pike answered with a smile. "He's agreed, pending your approval of course."

"Of course," Barnett echoed, frowning. "Are you sure Spock can handle all this Pike? Sounds like a lot of work, even for a Vulcan."

"He's not going to be doing all of it sir. I've asked him to put together a team of Cadets to do most of the grunt work."

"I can see what you're trying to do Chris, and I agree with most of it. These extra activities would be on top of regular class loads, correct?"

"That's correct Admiral. Most of the tech training as well as the discussion groups will have to scheduled for nights and weekends."

"That's a hell of a lot of extra work. What makes you think they can handle it?"

"Becoming a Starfleet officer should to be hard," Pike responded with a shrug. "I want to see how tough our kids are."

"What about the extra personnel? How are we going to find all these people Chris?" Barnett demanded, when Pike paused to refill his coffee.

"There's plenty of officers available on Terra who are upgrading their credentials between tours of duty sir. The non comms will be harder to get, but I'm thinking there are enough retirees who wouldn't mind earning some extra cash."

"Don't get me wrong Captain, l like what I'm hearing. But I have to tell you, all this extra expense is going to be a tough sell to Nogura."

"It's even worse then you think sir. Reprogramming the simulators is really just a stop gap measure. Most of them are going to need to be replaced eventually."

"I was afraid you were going to say something like that."

"Sorry sir, but the technology those things are based on is almost two generations out of date."

"How the hell do you expect me to get Heihachiro to sign off on this?" Barnett demanded.

"I think that Admiral Nogura will prefer this to the alternative sir," Pike answered with a smile. "Some of his most important allies in the Federation Senate supported the academic reforms. If we start dismantling them, he's going to have a fight on his hands."

"Captain Pike, you are one devious son of a bitch," Barnett stated in an admiring tone of voice.

"Thank you sir," the other man shot back, "but I can't claim credit for that piece of information. It was Master Chief Floinn who pointed that fact out to me."

"Well then you have devious friends, which is almost as good."

"There is one more thing we need to discuss Admiral."

"Christ Pike, I don't like the look on your face. You saved the best for last, didn't you?" Barnett groused.

"Sir, there is only so much someone can learn through simulations and study groups. The next step is providing the means for them to demonstrate that those lessons have been learned well enough to be put into practice on board a Starship. It's not enough to show our cadets what they should do. We need a way for them to show us what they can do."

"Let me get this straight," Barnett sputtered, shaking his head. "Your thinking about sending them out into space on some sort of training cruise?"

"No sir. I'm not talking about some joy ride to Jupiter or Alpha Centauri. This would be an internship in deep space of at least two months duration."

"Are you out of your mind Pike? The Admiralty is not going to approve training in space supervised by Academy personal."

"They will if we can show them it's value Admiral."

"How the hell are you going to do that."

"Let's call it a demonstration project sir. I intend to take one hundred Academy Cadets on a mission this summer, on a Starship under my command."

**A/N: Finally! Hope you enjoy this! My next chapter is nearly done. Should be out within a week (really). Please sending me your comments, good or bad.**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Shadow of the Past

When he'd entered the Provost's office at 0700, McCoy was expecting a royal butt chewing. Instead, Pike had looked up from his desk and actually grinned at him. After calling McCoy a 'royal pain in the ass,' and several other choice expletives, the Captain handed him a PADD with the admonishment to study the information and report back his conclusion regarding Aileen Baeill's medical history and the reasons behind it in exactly forty-eight hours. McCoy's sputtering attempt at a protest was met with a thunderous dismissed, and he was quickly ushered our the door by a sweating aide.

Due to the prodigious amount of paperwork that the Vulcans required to get Petty Officer Baeill transferred to his care, it was 1400 before he had a chance to actually look at what Pike had given him. It was the complete medical record of the USS Valiant under Captain Christopher Pike's command. Within minutes of starting to read, McCoy understood how wrong he had been concerning Spock. A few minutes after that he was cursing steadily. What the hell kind of operation was Pike running? It was shortly after that, on the way to his last class of the day (a useless waste of time that was supposed to teach him the astrography of the galaxy) that McCoy commed Commander Spock. There was no answer, so he left a mumbled message of apology. Then he tried to decide what to do about Chief Floinn.

After their last self defense session, he was already sure that the woman was trying to kill him. And there hadn't even been actual sparing involved. Instead she had insisted on evaluating his fitness. This particular test involved running full out up some of San Francisco's steepest hills. The saddest part (besides the puking) was that he couldn't keep up with her even though Floinn had a hundred pound weight vest strapped to her torso. Tomorrow she was actually supposed to start hitting him, and he didn't think that was a good idea, especially if the woman turned out to be pissed over what he'd said to Spock. The best thing to do was call and find out. When there was no response, he decided not to leave a message. He'd just keep trying until she answered. That turned out to be three hours and fourteen calls later.

One look at her expression and he was certain of one thing. Floinn already knew about his blowup with Spock. The face that filled the screen was thin lipped, with a slightly pink complexion. After staring at him silently for five seconds, she broke the connection. McCoy shook his head, wondering if it was a character flaw that he thought most women looked more attractive when they were angry. Especially when they were angry with him. After trying to call Floinn again several times with no response, he took a break to pour himself a whiskey and water, then retrieved the PADD Pike had given him. McCoy quickly settled into a routine of scrutinizing the information from the PADD, interspersed with attempts to call Floinn along with mixing fresh drinks. After several hours he was feeling good enough not to care if the Chief answered. It was shortly after that realization, when he was in the midst of shoveling down a plate full of Nachos (drinking made him hungry), that his screen brightened and he glanced up to see the Chief looking at him with arms crossed over her chest. It was hard to grin around a mouth full of tortilla chips, ground beef and sour cream, but he somehow managed it. Floinn didn't look impressed.

"Would ye kindly stop harassing me Mr. McCoy," she demanded in a low, angry voice. "I have no desire to speak with ye at the moment."

He saw her reaching to cut him off again and quickly swallowed his treat, while shaking his head and waving his arms. She paused with a raised eyebrow, while he washed it down with the remains of his drink. "Sorry," he sputtered, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Would you please just listen to me for one minute."

She stared at him for a long moment, then pulled her hand back. "Are ye drunk?"

"Hell no!" he answered with a shake of his head. "Maybe on the way, but I'm not there yet."

Floinn nodded in turn, then sat back in her chair. "Say what ye will then."

"I'm assuming that you're angry with me over what I said to Commander Spock the other night."

"Captain Pike told me the tale. He seemed to be amused by your presumption. I am not."

"Look I made a mistake, I know that now. I'm sorry."

"Tis not I that ye should be saying that to McCoy," she growled, looking away from him. After a few seconds her eyes found him again and he could see the fire. "What could have put the thought into your head that Aileen was in need of protection? And from Commander Spock? Ye know nothing of their life outside of the handful of minutes they were in your company. Yet ye had the temerity to assume that your intervention was welcome or necessary."

"Now you wait just a damned minute. I admit that I didn't know all the facts, but it was my duty…"

"Duty!" She cut him off, her voice thick with anger. "Ye know not the meaning of that word if you think it allows you to act on a patient's behalf with out consulting her first!"

"She was asleep," he answered uncomfortably, looking down at the remains of his nachos.

"Ye will have to do better then that McCoy."

McCoy took a deep breath, glancing at his empty glass. "At the time, it seemed obvious that your niece was in a bad situation."

"Really? Why?"

"Her injury rate while she was posted to the Valiant was nearly four times the norm for a noncom of her rank, that's why."

"And ye thought she was unaware of this fact Doctor?"

"No! Of course not. Just…well he's a Commander and she's a Petty Officer. That's a pretty big gap in rank to buck."

"Oh I see. Ye though Aileen was being taken advantage of?"

"I know what happened to your niece on the Hood."

"And exactly how did ye become aware of this?" Floinn demanded, with a snarl.

"Thanks to you. I'm her doctor, remember?"

"That information was to be removed from her permanent record," Floinn countered, her face gone suddenly blank.

"It wasn't on her permanent record. I found out when I looked at her Psych profile. The notation was added by the CMO of the Valiant. He seemed to think your niece was not respectful of authority. Cited what happened to her on the Hood as the reason why."

"I see," she answered sadly, which threw McCoy for a loop. "Commander Spencer never was any use when it came to keeping his records up. And in this case he was mistaken. Aileen has always been a rebellious girl."

"Yeah," McCoy drawled with a shrug. "The notation was made nearly four years ago, and there was never any follow up." He paused for her to respond, but she said nothing so he went on. "I tried to comm Spencer and ask about it, but it seems he's even worse at returning comms then he is at record keeping."

"Tis not a fault that I would hold against him McCoy, considering that the man is dead."

"What? Why the hell didn't they mention that little fact on the Medical database?"

"Ye have heard of the Valiant I am sure."

"Damned right I did, as soon as Petty Officer Baeill became my patient. Something about an accident under investigation, but nothing about casualties."

"Of course there were casualties Doctor, and some of those were fatal. However, tis not something that the Fleet is prepared to admit, except to the families."

"Unbelievable!" Fury growing within, McCoy reached for his whiskey, and took a long swallow straight from the bottle.

"Do ye feel better now Doctor?" She inquired after he'd slammed it back on the table.

"How can you let them get away with this Floinn?"

"Let them Doctor? I think ye misunderstand. While I certainly am not in accord with the decision to keep the details of this secret, I am under orders."

"Are you serious? Are you telling me that you agree with this?"

"Did I not just say that I do not?" She answered in an exasperated tone. He started to speak again but she cut him off with a gesture. "If I were required to agree with every order I was given, sure that I would have left the service long ago."

"Those bastards are trying to cover this up, and you're helping them," he shot back, pointing his finger at her image on the display. "In my book that's wrong!"

"I care not for your opinion McCoy," she answered with a shrug. "If the crew were not being cared for, or the families of those that were hurt or died not told, then I would agree with ye. But such is not the case. Nor will the so called secret be one for much longer."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Tis not possible to keep what happened under wraps much longer. Too many there are that already know."

"I still don't like it," he muttered, his shoulders slumped. "What gives them the right to conceal this?"

"Their rank is the only right they need Doctor," she answered slowly, as if a teacher speaking to a distracted student.

She was trying to piss him off on purpose McCoy decided. And it was working. He took a deep breath and was about to really lay into her when he noticed the expression on her face had changed from anger and annoyance to something like scrutiny. So he clamped down hard and let her decide what to do next. After a few seconds, Floinn tilted her head slightly to one side, and offered a small smile.

"I will owe that I was not completely honest with ye, when I said I did no agree with the secrecy. There may well be one very good purpose, beyond the saving of Admiralty hind ends."

"And what would that be?"

"First ye must answer me a question." The she waited until he nodded his assent before going on. "Captain Pike said to me that ye were very firm in you opinion regarding Commander Spock being responsible for Aileen's situation. Why did ye change your mind?"

"This," he said, picking up the PADD Pike had forced on him and waving it at the display. "Mr. Provost Pike decided I need the whole story, so he gave me a copy of the Valiant's Medical Log."

"Yes I know. The Captain told me."

"Then why the hell did you ask me that question?"

"Because I want an answer."

"Damned woman," he grumbled, then he took the bottle and filled half his glass. "Turned out the Spock was on the injury report more often then Baeill, even though she spent more actual time in sickbay."

"The Commander was not a cooperative patient," she muttered.

"I'll bet. So I started looking at the rest of the crew, comparing statistics with the Fleet. After an hour I wondered if I should go back to Pike and ask him what the hell kind of cockamamie outfit he was running."

"Cockamamie?"

"You heard me. What the hell were you doing out there?" When she couldn't or wouldn't answer he really got pissed. "First of all, the Valiant had the highest injury ratio of any ship in the fleet, something I was surprised to find considering that Pike seems to know what the hell he's doing."

"Ye will not find as fine a Captain in Starfleet as Christopher Pike."

"Then how do you explain this data?"

"So keen on the facts ye are," she responded in a teasing voice. "Tis almost as if I were conversing with a Vulcan."

"Damn it Chief, I'm serious."

"Another trait the ye share with the Commander. Very well Doctor, the explanation behind the difference in casualty rates is the difference in missions."

"Son of a bitch!" He barked, reaching for his PADD. Roughly two minutes of relative silence followed, punctuated by some grunts and one remark in which McCoy compared his intelligence to that of a large flightless and extinct bird in an unfavorable manner.

"Exploration huh," he grunted after leaning back in his chair and stretching out. "You don't seem like the adventuresome sort to me Chief."

"I truly am not. T'was the notion of serving under Captain Pike again that was the attraction Doctor. And in truth, the unique nature of the Valiant's mission."

"Unique? I thought Starfleet was dedicated to exploration."

"Quite true Doctor. Survey missions _**were **_at one time one of the Fleet's highest priorities. Such as not been the case for near twenty-five years."

"Then what the hell are all those ships doing out there?"

"Watching the Romulan Neutral Zone. Mapping new subspace corridors within Federation borders, along with anti-piracy patrols. Waiting on alert for the return of whatever was responsible for the destruction of the Kelvin."

"The Kelvin? You're kidding me."

"Tis the loss of the Kelvin that has informed Starfleet strategies for the length of my career in the service."

Floinn went on to explain that the USS Kelvin had been the flagship of a new class of vessels designed to conduct long range exploratory missions. All that changed when the starship was destroyed just eleven mouths into her maiden voyage. It was the largest single loss of life in the history of survey missions. Even worse, Starfleet was unable to determine the identity of the unknown aggressor. The ships log was never found, and the entire bridge crew perished, leaving no witness to the reported parley between Captain Robau and the mysterious vessel. Surviving telemetry data revealed technology that was thought to be beyond any of the Federations prospective enemies. The fact that Starfleet had no explanation for what had happened (or at least one they were willing to share with the public), generated a kind of hysteria throughout much of the Federation. Survey missions were cut back as Starfleet mobilized for defense against this unknown threat. The fleet was rebuilt and placed on a more or less permanent war footing, a situation that allowed few resources for serious exploration. This remained more or less the status quo until Admiral Nogura was appointed Chief of Operations five years ago.

"T'was Nogura who pushed for ships to be released for survey duty," Floinn stated in an admiring tone of voice. "Because of him, the Valiant was assigned to a mission of exploration, and our success allowed him to commission the Enterprise."

"And now you think what happened to the Valiant could be a threat to that."

"Of course it is Doctor. Tis the reason why Starfleet does not wish to disclosed what happened to the Valiant without the knowledge of how it happened."

"I still don't think it's a good idea to hide this from the public."

"Think what ye will Doctor, just do not speak those thoughts indiscriminately."

"Relax Chief. It might piss me off, but not enough to risk getting myself hauled off to Starfleet Security."

After several seconds Floinn nodded. "Very well. I think wise for us to postpone your lesson in self defense. Would two days hence be convenient?"

"Fine by me Chief. But just so you know, getting my ass kicked is never convenient."

She chuckled and moved to end the call, but McCoy asked her to wait. "You still haven't told me the reason your niece and Spock ended up spending all that time in sickbay."

The only answer that Floinn offered was a blank screen.

* * *

If Spock had been human, he would have indulged in several profanities. Then he would have gone to the nearest establishment dedicated to the imbibing of alcoholic beverages. Such was his first reaction to Captain Pike's notion of overhauling the Academy's training regime in the course of the _**current **_semester of study. Looking over the schedule he had constructed, he could not help but postulate that there were situations where alcohol induced oblivion had its merits. Individually, each task that Captain Pike had requested of him was both necessary and achievable. It was the aggregate of those assignments which concerned him. There were eleven simulator units which Spock had identified as most in need of refurbishment. Of those units, perhaps six could be made serviceable with software updates. As for the rest, only a complete rewrite of computer code would suffice. Given the immense amount of software to be created, it was certainly not an undertaking that Spock could manage alone, even without his commitment to Nogura to investigate what had caused the wreck of the Valiant. Naturally, Pike had already anticipated his difficulty.

At first Spock had been dubious concerning his friend's suggested solution. Obviously, there was a certain logic in the use of cadets to furnish him with the assistance that he would require. The work would provide them with a practical means of demonstrating that they had mastered the skills that would be utilized in their future careers. The Captain also found the notion of students helping to reconstruct their own training equipment to be amusing. There were also sound budgetary reasons for taking this approach. Pike had explained that bringing in outside contractors would probably make the project too costly for Barnett to approve.

None of these reasons altered the fact that working with students who were engaged in full time class work would be a detriment to accomplishing his task. With a slight shrug he called up the records of the top thirty software engineering majors, students who would most likely have the skills he was looking for. He quickly discovered an unexpected level of talent, something that he should have anticipated. Considering the advanced nature of Starfleet's computer systems, slots in the Academy computer sciences program were among the most sought after in the Federation. Spock had little difficulty in picking half a dozen cadets who would be able to work independently on complex programming tasks. To these, he added the names of the two persons chosen to work as his personal assistants.

Petty Office Baeill was of course the first individual he had decided upon. While writing computer code was not a skill she excelled in, her understanding of the interactions of software and hardware would be invaluable. However, it was her leadership skills that he valued most for this particular situation. From long experience, Spock was aware of Ms. Baeill's ability to project both a sympathetic as well as an intimidating presence, depending on which the circumstances called for. Along with her proven organizational abilities, he was confident that this would allow her to keep the cadets on task when he was unavailable due to his other commitment.

As for the other individual that Spock had decided upon, she had been under consideration from the moment he had learned of this project. Not only were her skills as a programmer unsurpassed by any of her fellow cadets, she also carried a minimal class load for the current semester. One reason for this fortuitous circumstance was that she had tested out of most required courses in her major. The other involved his only concern over asking for her assistance with this project, which was a rather single minded approach to her favored recreational activity. In the end, his respect for her abilities outweighed any concerns he had over potential disruptions. Despite a residual concern that his decision would eventually come back to masticate his posterior, he sent a message to Cadet Gaila's comm requesting her presence in his office at 0900 the next day.

The first unexpected development was that Cadet Gaila was seven minutes early. The second was that she was not alone. When the chime sounded indicating he had a visitor, Spock had been perusing a tome from the era of Vulcan's Reformation, which he set aside. His eyes scanned the office, taking in the hand woven rug, the shelf which contained other books of Vulcan history, and the rose bush, which was a gift from his mother. Behind him on the wall, were two holographs, each displaying a vista from the planets of his origin. The first was a panorama of the Forge, recorded from the summit of Mount Seleya. Fantastic columns of red rock, carved by both wind and the destructive force of a nuclear holocaust, towered over the desolate, water starved plains. The second holograph displayed the Golden Gate, with the ancient bridge astride the deep blue waters, which stretched beyond to merge into the light blue sky. No other aspect of Terra was more disquieting to the Vulcan soul. From space the oceans were merely a disturbing abstraction. That which the eye revealed the mind simply refused to accept. On the surface such subterfuge was no longer possible. The reality of so profligate a bounty was something that many Vulcans found difficulty accepting. One of the hardest things to fathom concerning humans was they appeared to give no serious thought to the endless wealth they enjoyed.

Satisfied that all was in order, Spock tapped his displayed and the office door slid open. Unexpectedly, there were two Cadets looking at him through the open doorway. Along with Cadet Gaila, was her roommate and friend Cadet Uhura. Both stood uncertainly for several seconds, then Uhura took the Orion woman by the arm and steered her into the office. Both glanced back when the door shut behind them. After a few more small steps both women snapped to attention in front of his desk.

"Cadet Gaila reporting as requested sir!" There was a certain trepidation in her tone. At least it seemed so to Spock. Orion emotions were something of a mystery to him. Rising to his feet, he acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head.

"At ease Cadets," was the expected response.

It was not however what he actually wanted to say. That inquiry came after he had procured another chair to add to the one by the front of his desk. Once he had invited them to be seated and had done likewise, Spock leaned slightly foreword, his hand steepled just under his chin. Cadet Gaila looked downward, but her friend had no difficulty meeting his gaze. The effect was slightly disconcerting.

"Please explain your presence Ms. Uhura."

"Gaila asked me to accompany her Commander," came the immediate and firm reply. Spock turned his gaze to the other woman.

"Moral support sir," the Orion blurted out after a few seconds of hesitation.

This earned her a raised eyebrow from Spock. "Cadet, what reason would you have for believing you were in need of such solace?"

"I know I should have said something before sir," she began quietly. "But I only found out about two weeks ago. I wasn't sure at first…then I thought…maybe this is just temporary…that it would wear off or something…"

"Gaila wait…"

"…but it's been two week sir…two weeks without any sex at all…"

"Gail just stop," Uhura interrupted abruptly. Then she took a deep breath and succeeded in smothering her smile. "Sorry," she said to Spock, when she could muster sufficient seriousness, "but I don't think you have any idea what Gaila is talking about, do you sir?"

"Indeed not Ms. Uhura."

"Then why did you ask me to come here?" Gaila objected.

"I wished to inquire as to your availability regarding participation in a project that involves updating the software of the Academy simulators."

"Ok," Gaila answered after a few seconds. "We can talk about that."

"Negative. Whatever situation you were attempting to communicate, it is obviously highly distressing."

"That's because I didn't really want to talk about it sir."

"Gaila," her friend interjected, "you agreed to tell him."

"That's because I thought he already knew!" She hissed, starting to rise from the chair.

"Please resumed your seat Cadet," Spock ordered in an even tone. For a few seconds Gaila stared at him, fists clenched at her side. Then she dropped into the chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Fine." She muttered looking down at her polished boots. "It's about sex Commander. Do you really want to go there?"

"I assure you, I am familiar with that subject Cadet."

"Are you sure sir, because this isn't theory we are talking about?"

"I cannot conceive of a circumstance in which you would have any interest at all in the discussion of sexuality as a purely theoretical concept."

"Good point," the Orion conceded, taking a deep breath. "So, the idea of talking sex with an Orion doesn't offend you sir?"

"Negative. Offence is an emotional state of mind Cadet. However, I will admit to being impatient with your attempt at prevarication."

Gaila nodded to Spock and took a deep breath. "I've been taking medication to suppress my production of pheromones" she stated quietly. "I have recently observed a marked decrease in the efficacy of this drug."

"Please describe the nature of the failure Cadet."

"It's really pretty simple. Most of the time it's works fine. Except when I'm having sex, then it doesn't work at all.

"Are you quite certain?"

"When your…when the guy you just had sex with starts following you out of the room without even bothering to put his pants back on, you tend to notice something like that. Especially the third time it happens."

"Indeed. Am I to understand that you have refrained from sexual activity since this failure of your medication became obvious?"

"Yes sir. I want my partners to choose me freely, just like I choose them."

"An impressive display of will power Cadet."

"And I've hated every minute of it sir," she growled, meeting his gaze.

"Cadet Gaila, while I certainly commiserate with your predicament, I am not a medical specialist. I am dubious concerning my ability to offer you any meaningful assistance. There is also the fact that as Starfleet officer, I am duty bound to report your condition."

"We know that sir," Uhura answered, glancing at her friend. "Gaila isn't trying to hide what happened. We came to you because she needs someone who can speak for her. Someone the authorities will listen to."

"This isn't my fault Commander," Gaila continued, he voice tinged with emotion. "I didn't do anything wrong, and I don't want to be expelled from the Academy and denied the chance to serve on a Starship because a drug that other people told me to take isn't working right."

"I agree Cadet," Spock stated, after a few moments of reflection. "When the time comes to present your case, I would be pleased to represent that view to Admiral Barnett. However, there are a number of steps that must be taken before we will be able to have that conversation."

"Excuse me sir….but what steps?"

"I was under the apparently mistaken impression that you were a scientist Cadet. As such, you should appreciate the impossibility of officially notifying the Academy Commandant before we have arranged all of our waterfowl into an orderly queue."

"Our…what?" The Orion woman stammered.

"Ducks Gaila…ducks in a row." Uhura supplied, with a snicker. "Just what do you have in mind Commander?"

"Cadet Gaila's conjecture that her medication is no longer suppressing her natural production of pheromones must be verified."

"Conjecture?" Gaila sputtered, shaking her head. "Excuse me sir, but I'm the expert here!"

"Science demands more then informed opinion Cadet. Before this situation can be brought to the attention of Admiral Barnett, materials must be accumulated to support your hypothesis."

"He's right Gaila," Uhura remarked, after a quick glance at Spock. "We've got to have evidence if anyone is going to take us seriously. I'm sure Commander Spock will demand a through investigation before we can inform anyone."

"Indeed Cadet Uhura. Data must first be gathered to form a base line for comparison."

"What?" Gaila groaned, wrapping her arms across her chest. "Why? What kind of data are you talking about?"

"The quantification of the discrete quantity of pheromones that your physiology emanates over a specific length of time. In order to measure this accurately, you will be equipped with a medical sensor."

"I don't understand what you're trying to accomplish sir. So far, the only time the drug doesn't seem to work is when I'm having sex."

"It has been my experience that Admirals do not appreciate being confronted with a difficulty to which there is no apparent resolution. Confirming your condition through a process of methodical study will give us the opportunity to discover such a solution."

"But Commander, you'll have to notify Admiral Barnett eventually," Uhura observed, after reaching over to grip Gaila's hand. "I don't see what a few days delay will do."

"You are correct Ms. Uhura. At some point in time, the Admiral will be informed of this development. However, it would not be appropriate for any of us to perform this task. That would be an improper circumvention of the Academy chain of command."

For a moment all Uhura could do was stare. Did the corners of his mouth turn slightly upward after he'd finished that last sentence? "The chain of command?" She repeated slowly after glancing at Gaila to be sure the other woman was as just as confused.

"Yes Cadet. Every bureaucracy has a hierarchical structure by which information is passed to higher authorities. Admittedly such lines of authority are extremely inefficient when it comes to decision making. However, they can be useful in regard to purchasing procrastination."

"But sir, I don't really want to drag this out," Gaila said, after taking a deep breath.

"Please be assured Cadet, that delay is not the only reason for pursuing this particular course of action."

"It's Captain Pike isn't it sir? He's the person you want to deal with."

"Correct Ms. Uhura. As Provost, he would be the proper authority to inform. Given assurances that Cadet Gaila's medication continues to be effective absent any sexual encounters, I am confident that Captain Pike will allow sufficient time for that medication to be adjusted."

"Excuse me Commander," Gaila spoke up hesitantly, "but exactly how much time are we talking about?"

"That is difficult to say with any degree of certainty Cadet. However, I consider it probable that with an adjustment to the formula, your medication would once again be effectual. If random chance operates in our favor, this can be accomplished in approximately 22.38 days."

"Great Mother," the Orion woman exclaimed, her hands clenched into fists. "What am I supposed to do while you're conducting this experiment?"

"I would highly recommend for you to continue on the same path you have followed since you became aware of your condition."

"Wait a minute, are you saving I'm supposed to continue to be…celibate," the Orion answered, her tone incredulous. "That doesn't sound good to me at all Commander."

"Calm yourself Cadet. Considering the fact that your medication is still effective…"

"Not when I want it to be sir," Gaila interrupted, waving her arms. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm Orion. Which means going without sex is more then an inconvenience."

"Quite true. However, I am certainly not proposing that you adopt abstinence as a alteration of your traditional cultural norms. This is a temporary situation Cadet. One which you must adapt yourself to."

"That's easy for you to say! You're Vulcan!"

"Gaila, that's not fair," Uhura objected. "Commander Spock is trying to help you."

"I'm sorry Ny," her friend answered, in a tone of voice that clearly said she was not. "It's just not natural for an Orion to go without sex."

"As I just stated, forgoing any kind sexual activity is not necessary. Only those acts that require another partner must be avoided until your situation is resolved."

"I'm not sure what you mean Commander?" Gaila cooed, after winking at Uhura.

"I would think that under the circumstances, my meaning would be obvious," Spock replied, after a long silence. While Uhura couldn't detect any change in his tone of voice, the Commander's completion appeared to be slightly greener.

"Sorry sir, I think you need to be more specific then that," the Orion responded with a smile.

Both women watched with barely concealed amusement as Commander Spock visibly stiffened in his chair. "I am dubious that you would require any further direction on my part regarding the options that are open to you."

"Look Commander, I just want to be sure we're on the same page," Gaila answered, her tone suddenly serious. "What you're saying is that if I can't have sex with other people, then I'm going to need to have sex with myself."

"Under the circumstances, self stimulation would seem to be the logical method for the relief of certain tensions."

"Great Mother! I can't believe I just heard a Vulcan advise me to masturbate! I think we just had a cultural breakthrough Commander."

"Indeed Cadet. No doubt this will be recorded as a great moment in the rich annuals of Vulcan-Orion philosophical exchanges."

"Hey, that's sarcasm sir," Gaila protested. "I didn't think Vulcans understood sarcasm."

"They do not." Spock answered, in a manner the Uhura thought was almost smug. "No doubt the constant exposure to Terran influences is responsible for whatever proficiency I have acquired concerning this unfortunate tendency of verbal scoffing."

"Don't blame us," Uhura admonished him with a chuckle. "Your delivery was very natural sir. I'd say you've had a lot of practice."

"I don't want to sound ungrateful sir," Gaila said, after taking a deep breath. "But this doesn't really solve my problem. Even if I get to stay at the Academy, I don't think even Captain Pike is going to let me on board his ship, knowing that if my medication fails half his crew could become sex zombies."

Spock sat back in his chair, eyes unfocused and hands steepled under his chin. Almost like he was meditating, Uhura thought. When he finally straightened, his gaze was focused on her. "Ms. Uhura, there are some matters that I need to discuss with Cadet Gaila. There is a lounge twenty-four meters further down the corridor from this office. Please wait there."

"Yes sir," Uhura answered, ignoring the alarmed expression of her roommate. She was up and almost out the door before she remembered. "We both have class in less then an hour sir."

"That's right," Gaila said, her voice tinged with relief. "Sorry Commander, but we really should be going."

"This will not take long Cadet," Spock intoned, gesturing to Gaila to stay where she was. Uhura looked at her friend and shrugged, as if to say that she was sorry.

"What is it you want to say to me sir?" Gaila asked, her voice tentative.

"There are several items we need to consider. First, the original reason for which your presence was requested."

"You said something about asking me to work on a team that you're forming to reprogram the Academy simulators."

"You are correct. If this project is to be successful, it will require your participation."

"What! Sir, you can't do that!" She protest in a high voice. "I've worked in most of those simulators. They're going to need completely new computer code. I don't have time for that!"

"Cadet, I have examined your academic records. You have already completed virtually all of the course work in your declared major."

"Sir, I still have to write my senior thesis."

"That assignment is not required for 443.39 days. That is to say, a week before your scheduled graduation."

"What can I say sir," she answered with a grin. "I like to work ahead."

"Certainly that is a laudable goal. However, you can hardly claim the pressure of time would preclude participation in my project."

"This isn't right sir," Gaila protested. "You can't force me to work for you if I don't want to."

"Cadet, obviously you are working from an incorrect assumption. You should consider my offer in the context of a well known Terran proverb. "If you abrade my vertebral column, then I shall abrade yours in return."

"That sounds painful."

"Indeed. I will admit that Terran proverbs often seem to actually obscure the idea they are meant to convey. In this case, the concept of reciprocation of assistance."

"Yeah," she responded, exhaling sharply. "This is really going to cut into my leisure time sir."

"Considering your present state of affairs, you may find the extra activity to be a welcome diversion. Due to certain demands of my schedule, you will have a leading role in the design of much of the new programming. You may very well find the experience useful."

"I really doubt that sir. There isn't much call for programming simulators out in space."

"Given the current circumstances, it would seem logical for you to reorient your post Academy career path to preclude service on a starship."

She didn't answer him immediately, which he considered a good sign. Any protest of incredulity over his suggestion would have been an indication that she was not taking her situation seriously. And she was far too intelligent for that to be the case. Spock understood very well that there was a certain role Gaila was expected to play. He had faced similar pressure to conform to the image of how Vulcans were believed to conduct themselves. Fortunately for him, these expectations were in line with the manner in which he wished to live his life. Most of the time. He wondered if the same could be said of Cadet Gaila. Whatever negative attitudes that Terrans might harbor concerning his people, their was little question as to the special relationship the respective planets enjoyed.

Such was not the case concerning Orions. Their culture was almost universally denigrated by most of the Federation, with male Orions considered the most savage of criminals, while the females were perceived as more fantasy then sentient being, victims of their aggressively sexual nature. To fight such a stereotype would be extremely difficult for any group, let alone a single individual. There were few other Orions on Terra that Cadet Gaila could point to as proof that the accepted portrait of her people had little basis in fact. To put herself forward as an example was to invite a scrutiny that would make her existence extremely unpleasant. There was a certain logic in choosing to mimic the role that was expected of her. There was also the possibility that she enjoyed it as well. If that were so, then the difficulty of his task would be considerably magnified. When the Orion woman finally answered, he found the defiant tone of her voice to be reassuring.

"No sir, I can't do that. My clan mother risked everything to get me out of Orion space. I won't dishonor her sacrifice by accepting anything less then what I came here for."

Spock nodded and slowly rose from his chair, walking to the window. Looking out over the tree tops that came up to just below his sight, he could see down to the blue waters nearly a mile away. When he turned his gaze to the Orion woman, she didn't look away.

"Your determination is admirable Cadet."

"Thank you Commander. But that really doesn't help, me does it?" Her voice was subdued, but the expression on her face mirrored a similar countenance that he had observed any number of times at the beginning of his relationship with Petty Officer Baeill. Terrans called it stubbornness. "When I applied to Starfleet Academy, the Commandant personally assured me that being an Orion wouldn't have any bearing on whether I was assigned to a Starship. How could he say that?"

"I have no doubt that Admiral Larsen was sincere in his assurances. However, as you are well aware, he is no longer the Commandant of this institution. In any event, it was a promise that he had no authority to offer."

"Sir…he said that he would recommend me…are you saying that's not enough."

"While it is certainly correct that no Cadet would be offered a posting on a Starship without the Academy's recommendation, the final decision on who will serve on a particular vessel rests with the Captain."

"And no Captain is going let me on his ship, isn't that right?" Gaila demanded, her voice expressing the anger she could barely contain.

"Not under the present circumstances."

"So what you're really saying sir, is that I never had any chance of getting on into space."

"If that were true Cadet, there would be no point to this conversation."

"But you just said…"

"Circumstances are subject to change, are they not Cadet?"

"But Commander, my pheromones…"

"There are Vulcan anthropologists who subscribe to the notion that some Orion females have the capacity to control their pheromone output."

"I…excuse me, but how…?"

"Our respective peoples have been in contact with one another for several millenia."

"It's not something we are supposed to talk about," Gaila answered reluctantly. "The ruling body of our home world is called the Matriarchy sir. Supposedly all members are capable of controlling their pheromones.

"Interesting. Tell me Cadet, is membership in this body hereditary?"

"No sir," she answered with a grimace. "Every adult woman is eligible. Each clan puts forward candidates who are tested. Those who are approved undergo training for the day they will succeed the elders who retire or pass on."

"Do you have any knowledge of what precisely this training entails?"

"No sir," Gaila answered with a vigorous shake of her head. "It's one of those things the Matriarchy never talks about."

"No doubt there are many subjects they would prefer not to discuss."

"Yeah," she muttered, "I guess that's how it goes when you don't have to answer to anyone but yourselves."

"So it would seem logical to postulate that a discrete number of Orion women have this ability, and that is at least one factor in making a determination of who may join the ruling elite. Furthermore, it would seem likely that part of the training those chosen undergo involves the development of this capability."

"What do you want me to say Commander? Sure, it sounds logical, but don't forget, you're dealing with Orions. Logic isn't exactly something you can be sure of when it comes to us."

"Certainly I could be entirely mistaken. However, if what you have just described is factual, then the ability to control ones pheromones is widespread among the female population. Perhaps even universal."

"Then why can't any sister I've ever know do so?"

"The answer to that question is training Cadet. In this circumstance, almost certainly training of the mind." There was a long silence, and then Spock walked back to his chair, and sat down. When his eyes found hers, the intensity in his gaze almost made her jump.

"I can assure Cadet Gaila, of the various arts that Vulcans have practiced in our long history, none are held in higher regard by my people then those dedicated to training the mind."

**A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. Hope you enjoy it too. Please drop me a line and tell me what you think.**


End file.
